


The Tome of the Githyanki

by WritersBlock039



Series: The Neverwinter Tomes [1]
Category: Neverwinter Nights
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, No Romance, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24417073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritersBlock039/pseuds/WritersBlock039
Summary: Twenty-five years ago, a battle pitting demons, devils, and man against the King of Shadows razed the Harborman village of West Harbor to the ground in the final battle of the Shadow War. Twenty-five years later, twins Connor and Savannah Johnson, adopted children of one of the war's survivors, never expected a life of adventure outside of their home.When one night brings outsiders to their village and their father sends them to recover what seems to be a simple piece of silver, their expectations are changed. A trip taking them from West Harbor to Neverwinter leads to unexpected friends and adventures, but even Neverwinter has more in store for the Johnsons than just answers.Tome One of the Neverwinter Tomes
Relationships: Bishop & Male Knight Captain, Casavir & Khelgar Ironfist & Male Knight Captain, Casavir & Male Knight Captain, Casavir & Original Female Character, Elanee & Male Knight Captain, Elanee & Neeshka, Elanee & Original Female Character, Khelgar Ironfist & Male Knight Captain, Khelgar Ironfist & Male Knight Captain & Neeshka, Khelgar Ironfist & Neeshka, Male Knight Captain & Neeshka, Male Knight Captain & Original Female Character, Male Night Captain & Qara, Neeshka & Original Female Character, Neeshka & Original Female Character & Qara, Original Female Character & Qara
Series: The Neverwinter Tomes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1763290
Kudos: 2





	1. Nulla ~ Mage I

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my second attempt at writing Neverwinter Nights 2, which I just got back into playing due to the COVID-19 pandemic. My first attempt took place on Wattpad, but after a resurge of inspiration, I scrapped that (it was horrible anyway) and decided a rewrite was needed, which I've decided to share here as well.
> 
> I plan on writing this series through Mask of the Betrayer, the expansion pack of the game. I hope people stick with me through then - there's a long way to go.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where a battle is fought between man and shadow, but who comes out the victor?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Neverwinter Nights 2 Original Campaign, its recognizable storyline, dialogue or characters. It is owned by Obsidian Entertainment, Atari, and its associates.

_Five and Twenty Years Ago_

Selûne smiled down upon the Sword Coast that night. Not a cloud blocked the white moon shining down on West Harbor, nor the twinkling stars that dotted the midnight sky. If one had looked at the sky, they would picture a perfect night.

On the ground, it was another story. The stench of brimstone filled the air as demons and devils wrestled with living shadows, soldiers with the fearsome eye of Neverwinter struggling to determine who the true threat was.

But no matter if the warriors were human or shadow, devil or demon, all avoided the place on the field where a cloaked man wielding a silver sword that shimmered, almost with life itself, faced off against a towering creature of pure shadow in armor. Every swipe of his sword crashed against the axe-like blades of the shadow creature, neither giving ground to the other.

The shadow creature finally tossed the mage aside like it was nothing, but the mage landed on his feet, eyes narrowed. He narrowed and lifted his hand, chanting in an ominous language; the tattoos inked onto his head scalp and forehead glowed as lightning crackled and hit his hand, forming an orb of energy. As the orb grew in size, another shadow blade materialized around the hand of the shadow creature. It took off at a run, occasionally disappearing in a cloud of shadow and reappearing closer. The mage finally threw the orb with all his might, aiming for the shadow creature’s chest.

The orb hit its mark, but the creature barely faltered. The mage adjusted his grip so he held the silver sword with both hands, then ran forward to meet the creature’s blade with his own. The blades locked together, and the mage grimaced, trying to hold firm.

Then a sound behind him, from the direction of the village, caused him to take his attention away from the shadow. It sounded like a wail . . . a _child’s_ wail, the mage thought. In a panic, he realized that one sound was enough to break his precious concentration.

If the shadow creature could smile, that was what it was doing as it pressed harder upon the silver sword. A cracking noise made him turn back around, and before the mage’s eyes, the sword splintered into shards that spiraled away from him. One went through the shadow creature, and to the mage’s brief relief, it disappeared from existence.

But as the other shards scattered, he had enough time to grab one of the pieces before the ground rumbled beneath him. His forces screamed in protest around him, and the mage tried to grab other shards before the ground opened up and swallowed him whole.

The last thing he heard was the cry of a dying woman, and the wail of the child – no, _children_ – that had led to his doom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We catch up to present day next time.


	2. I ~ Connor I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twenty-five years later, a druid, a warlock, a fighter, and a wizard run out of a house and into a battlefield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Neverwinter Nights 2 Original Campaign, its recognizable storyline, dialogue or characters. It is owned by Obsidian Entertainment, Atari, and its associates.

_Present Day_

Splintering wood awoke the black-haired man from his recurring nightmare, and Connor Johnson sat up straight in his bed, blinking sleep from his eyes. His green gaze swept his entire room, trying to see what had broken.

In the next moment, he heard boots thudding on the stairs to the upper level. “The village is under attack!” a familiar voice bellowed, panic in his tone. “West Harbor is under attack!”

Connor flung his covers aside immediately and searched for the leathers he wore for armor. He heard a muffled curse from the next room over, and he turned when he heard rapid knocking on his door. “Bevil, what’s going on?” he asked, reaching over and opening the door.

His best friend, Bevil Starling, froze mid-knock. “I’m not sure,” he shook his head, eyes darting from Connor fixing his bracers to the staircase, fingers drumming on his sword hilt anxiously. “They came pouring in from the swamp and just started tearing the village apart!”

His sister’s best friend’s blonde head poked in through the doorway. “We’d better hurry,” Amie Fern chewed her lip nervously. “I saw some of them following us on our way here. They’re likely to hit this house next.”

Connor nodded and grabbed his scimitar from where it leaned against the wall, then stepped out into the hallway. “Savannah?” he called as Amie disappeared into the next room, which was cracked open.

“I’m up!” her voice called faintly, then Amie hurried out. Savannah was the next out, wearing similar leathers to Connor, hers in dark colors while Connor’s were earthy. “Let’s go!”

Connor nodded, hurrying down the stairs as quickly as he could. “Were you able to see who the attackers are?” he asked over his shoulder.

“No,” Bevil shook his head, following right behind Connor; behind him, Savannah was sliding her throwing stars into sheaths on her gauntlets while Amie rubbed her hands anxiously. “I could hear them coming, but it was too dark to see them.”

“Or maybe that gives us a hint about who they are,” Savannah muttered thoughtfully.

Connor shook his head; it wasn’t in response to his sister’s words. “Who in the Nine Hells would want to attack West Harbor?” he wondered, reaching the ground floor.

He had barely taken three steps when the door, shut by Bevil and Amie when they entered, burst apart, and three dwarves with dark grey skin sprinted inside, daggers in hand. He faltered, eyes wide when he recognized the race, then he quickly drew his scimitar and ran forward. Amie’s chanting faded to the background as he swung at the first grey dwarf, easily piercing through the dwarf’s heart. Amie’s magic missiles downed the second, and Bevil’s longsword sliced through the last like he was cutting through butter.

Savannah had one of her shuriken in her hand, but she hadn’t thrown it. Instead, she was gawking at the bodies on the floor. _“Duergar?”_ she asked, crouching down to examine them closer.

“From the Underdark?” Amie’s eyes lit up.

“What are they doing on the surface?” Connor scratched his head.

“I think that goes back to your first question,” Bevil said as they headed for the door. “What are they doing in _West Harbor?”_

Connor stepped outside and quickly had to duck before a thrown dagger hit him in the forehead. He threw his hand out, and thick roots sprouted from the ground and wrapped around the ankles of the dwarves he saw. Savannah’s stars spiraled through the air past his ear, and if one wasn’t dead, Bevil ran them through with his sword. Amie sighed in relief, then screamed. “Connor!”

Connor spun around to see a hidden dwarf lunge at him, but an animalistic screech made him slump in relief. The dwarf spun around and was met by another charging mass of grey, and Bevil watched with wide eyes are the dwarf was impaled by tusks. “Connor,” he swallowed hard. “Your boar _scares_ me.”

Connor just smiled and crouched down. “Hello, girl,” he beckoned, and with an affectionate snort, his animal companion trotted over. “Thank you, Vhaera.”

The boar nudged his hand, and Connor patted her snout. “Well, if anyone doubts you’re a druid, there you go,” Savannah snickered.

Connor rose to his feet, Vhaera stomping her hooves on the ground. “We’d better find the others,” he began.

“Thank Lathander!” a relieved call came from several paces away, and Connor looked past a burning wheelbarrow to see the village’s priest, Brother Merring, stand from where he was attending to several villagers’ wounds. Connor jogged over, the words of small healing spells on his lips as he bent down to see who he could help. Brother Merring placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing quickly. “I saw some of those creatures enter your house, and it is good to see you safe.”

“You as well, Brother Merring,” Connor agreed, watching soft teal light surround those he tried to heal; his spells weren’t as strong as he would have liked, but they were healing. “Do you know what’s happening?”

“No,” Brother Merring sighed. “I don’t know where these beasts came from, but we need every sword at the southern bridge – more of those creatures are no the way, and in greater numbers. Georg is trying to gather the militia, but I fear he will not be able to marshal a defense in time, and without his help, this village will fall.”

“Understood,” Bevil nodded, hefting his sword.

“Do you need any help here?” Connor asked Brother Merring.

“Georg will need you more than I,” Brother Merring shook his head. “I will stay here and act now. Every man I can heal and get back into the fight, the greater our chances. Head south along the road. I shall stay here and look for the wounded, then join you. Georg should be at the bridge. Join him quickly; he will no doubt have orders for you.”

“I bet,” Savannah’s eyes flared with arcane power.

“On our way,” Connor rose to his feet.

“But before you go,” Brother Merring held up a hand, “take this blessing from Lathander, all of you.”

He chanted a few words, and bright rays of gold showered over them. Connor closed his eyes, a smile on his face as he felt the warmth of the blessing of the sun god; he was a follower of Lurue, the queen of talking beasts, but any blessing they received would aid them. “Thank you, Brother Merring,” he nodded respectfully, then turned to his sister and friends. “The bridge it is.”

* * *

The duergar crowding the few militiamen Georg had gathered scattered the moment Vhaera charged towards them. _I imagine a charging boar is an intimidating sight,_ Connor thought with a grin, joining his animal companion and swinging at a dwarf who thought he would try his luck at stabbing his animal friend in the back. Amie launched more of her magic missiles, the purple light sailing into dwarves as Savannah’s throwing stars punctured through their leather armor with ease.

Connor whirled around when he felt someone behind him, and he jerked back, returning his scimitar to his side when he realized he had been about to gut the leader of the militia. “Thank the gods you made it!” Georg sighed in relief. “There’s been no sign of your father, and I feared you and Savannah had been killed as well.”

“Our father’s dead?” Connor’s eyes widened.

Savannah’s head shot up in horror, but Georg shook his head. “I hope he isn’t, but no one has seen him at all. Hopefully he’ll join the fight soon. If not . . . ” He trailed off at the tears in Savannah’s eyes, then quickly switched tactics. “I have no idea where these creatures came from or what they want, but the ones loose in the village are only the first wave. More are coming, a _lot_ more.”

“This isn’t nearly enough to hold them off,” Amie frowned, looking around at the two standing militiamen and the one collapsed on the ground, bleeding.

“No, it’s not,” Georg agreed. “With you and a half-dozen more, we can meet at the wheat field and hold these creatures off.”

“We’ll start looking,” Connor slid his scimitar into its sheath.

“Connor!” Bevil’s call came from a few paces away.

Connor craned his neck to find his friend, and he let out a muffled curse as he ran over. _“Ward?”_

One of the village bullies gave him a bloody smile, clutching at the wounds in his stomach. “Come to gloat, Johnson?” he rasped. “Still, I took a bunch down before they got me.”

“Excellent job, Ward,” Connor said, crouching down to examine the wounds. “Gods, I can barely see you through all this blood.”

“Damn creatures coming out of nowhere,” Ward grimaced as Connor prodded at a particularly nasty stab. “My brother,” he suddenly asked, grabbing Connor’s arm. “My brother, Wyl, you seen him?”

“Not yet,” Connor shook his head, looking behind him to where Savannah and Amie were watching. “Scout ahead?” he requested.

Savannah nodded, and she and Amie ran over the bridge. “If you can find him, Connor,” Ward mumbled. “Please, he’s my brother . . . ”

Connor looked around, then pointed at a nearby tree. “Bevil, I need as many of those herbs as you can get.” Bevil hurried over, and Connor took a roll of bandages from one of his belt pouches. “Ward, listen to me,” he made the young man look at him. “I can staunch the bleeding, but stay still.”

Ward swallowed hard. “Thanks, Connor,” he said as Bevil returned, carrying a large handful of the herbs. “I appreciate it.”

* * *

It only took a minute or so to patch up Ward’s wounds enough for him to feel comfortable getting to his feet and taking up his sword again. As he ran over the bridge, heading for the wheat field, Connor took Bevil and Vhaera to join Lazlo Buckman in taking out duergar trying to kill a cowering Ian Harman. Savannah and Amie were emerging from a house nearby, a summoned wolf pawing at Amie’s feet. Bevil joined Lazlo in hacking at the duergar while Connor hurried up to Ian. “Are you hurt?” he asked, examining him.

“Eh . . . Connor?” Ian blinked, then glowered at him, making Connor do a double take. “Get away! Didn’t you _see_ those creatures out there? They’re killing everyone!”

“And that’s why the militia needs to be gathered,” Connor countered. “That includes you.”

“What, you’re dragging me out there to die?” Ian scoffed. “Not on your life! I’m staying right here!”

Connor gritted his teeth, seeing Bevil clap Lazlo on the shoulder and the village brewer run down the path to the field. “Ian, if you don’t fight now, _none of us_ have a chance.”

Ian swallowed hard. “But I tried to fight. There’s so many of them . . . _too_ many.”

“It won’t be just you,” Connor assured him. “Others will meet at the wheat field, but you’ll die _alone_ if you stay here.”

Ian sighed. “All right, all right, I’m going. I’ll meet you there . . . if I’m not dead when you arrive.”

Connor rolled his eyes at Ian’s last barb. “Wonderful speaking to you, too, Ian,” he muttered as the man ran off.

“That’s _exactly_ the attitude we want if we don’t want to survive the night,” Bevil scowled.

“At least Ian tried to fight,” Savannah said as she walked up. “Pierson locked himself in his house and tried to convince me and Amie to do the same.”

“Looks like you got him moving, though,” Connor nodded, seeing Ian catch up to the other man.

“Finally,” Savannah nodded. “How’s Ward?”

“Up and moving, thank the gods,” Connor answered, his gaze sweeping over the village. Each of the homes seemed quiet; either people were hiding, or those who could fight were already out. “Have you found anyone – ”

A loud explosion from several paces away made the four cover their ears. “Sweet Chauntea, what was that?” Bevil sputtered.

“Arcane magic,” Savannah answered, face draining of color. “Tarmas!”

Amie was already running towards where the magic had come from, her face even paler than Savannah’s. Connor didn’t blame her; when Amie was orphaned, it was Tarmas who had taken her in, becoming her foster father and her mentor in arcane arts. “Amie!” Connor shouted, running after her. “Wait!”

He found her by the well, watching the mage’s duel occurring with wide eyes. Tarmas was surrounded by a glittering shield of magic, throwing a sphere of electricity at his opponent: a green-skinned creature in a strange, two-piece robe. “You four stay out of this!” the village wizard managed to snap. “It’s too dangerous!”

He was proven right when the opposing mage fired off four magic missiles in quick succession. They smashed into Tarmas’s shield; the magic held, but it shimmered much less than before. “Master, just hold on!” Amie insisted, running forward. “We can help!”

“Amie!” Savannah reached out to grab her arm.

Amie yanked her arm out of Savannah’s grip and conjured her own missiles, sending them into the opposing mage. Unlike the creature’s spell, which had almost shattered Tarmas’s shield, the missiles fizzled out of existence the moment they touched his shield. “So the whelp seeks to test herself,” he narrowed his eyes. “How _pathetic.”_

Connor caught the orange flickers around his hands just in time. He shouted as quickly as he could and sent his spell to Amie just as the opposing mage conjured flaming orbs that flew towards his friend. His spell imbued Amie with enough protection that she was only burned horribly, not charred to death. Still, Amie fell to the ground with a gut-wrenching scream, flames burning her dress. _“Vhaera, protect!”_ Connor called telepathically.

“I shall waste _no more time_ on this pitiful village,” the mage sneered. “It is not here.”

As Vhaera ran to Amie, Bevil hurrying to attempt to help put out the flames, the mage summoned three large spiders that immediately scurried to Tarmas. “Savannah?” Connor spun desperately.

Savannah was already chanting, her words guttural and more ominous than Amie’s and Tarmas’s. Her eyes glowed purple, and the opposing mage quickly turned and fled as Savannah channeled her eldritch power and directed it towards him. Savannah caught him in the back and made his shield buckle, but the spiders changed direction and headed for her before she could summon her magic again. Savannah was left to throw her stars as quickly as she could while Connor attempted to avoid getting tangled in the spider’s webs.

Bevil rejoined them shortly, his sword a flurry of motion as he attacked the things that the opposing mage had left behind. Soon, all that was left of the arachnids were guts and mangled remains of webs. As soon as the last spider was dead, Connor ran to Amie, swallowing hard when he saw her unconscious, her skin red with burns. “The _stupid_ girl!” Tarmas snarled, his voice wavering as he stood over Connor’s shoulder, the druid saying the words of his strongest healing spell. “I told her to stay out of it!”

“Connor?” Savannah whispered, eyes brimming with tears. “Is she – ?”

“She’s alive,” Connor nodded, hanging his head in relief as Bevil almost collapsed. “Thank Lurue, she’s alive.”

Tarmas breathed a sigh of relief as well. “Good,” he said. “I’ll find Brother Merring and send him here. There’s more for the three of you to do, though. Georg and the militia are holding our attackers at bay on the Starling farm. We must hurry before the tide turns.”

“Especially if there are any other mages like that one,” Savannah threw a nasty look in the direction the mage had vanished. “If so, we need everyone we can find.”

Connor looked up and could already see Brother Merring running towards them, the healed Harbormen gathering on the opposite side of the bridge. “Let’s go,” he reluctantly stood.

Vhaera nudged his leg comfortingly. _“She lives,”_ she told him. _“You saved her.”_

 _“I know,”_ Connor patted her head, turning with Savannah and Bevil towards the Starling farm. _“I hope she stays safe.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The battle for West Harbor continues next chapter.


	3. II ~ Savannah I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A druid, a warlock, a fighter, and a boar continue to try and build a defense for their beloved swamp village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Neverwinter Nights 2 Original Campaign, its recognizable storyline, dialogue or characters. It is owned by Obsidian Entertainment, Atari, and its associates.

Savannah had grown up in West Harbor as the adopted daughter of an elven ranger and the twin sister of a druid. Unlike them, she had never felt a call to serve nature in some way. Her power came from a thrum in her blood and roared whenever her emotions raged. Her arcane might wasn’t as easily controlled as Amie’s was, nor could she shape it into the many spells Tarmas had in his books. Her magic came naturally and at will.

It was why so many approached her cautiously; there were few warlocks known in the harbor villages, and Savannah was known for her temper. That was why it was a shock when all Wyl Mossfeld did, considering the amount of blood covering him, when he saw her was give a bloody smile. “Come to gloat, Savannah?”

“Quite the problem you have, Wyl,” Savannah raised an eyebrow, folding her arms as Connor crouched by him.

“Vision’s getting all cloudy,” Wyl winced. “Have . . . have you seen my brothers?”

“We found Ward,” Savannah answered, watching Connor work on patching the man up. “He’s back in the fighting.”

Wyl sighed in relief. “Thank you. Ward can be cross at times, but he don’t mean no harm.”

Bevil muttered something under his breath that was less than kind; considering the Mossfeld brothers were the “village bullies,” Savannah didn’t blame him. “Just a few more,” Connor muttered before tying the last tourniquet. “How does that feel, Wyl?”

Wyl experimentally twisted his arm to and fro, then smiled in relief. “Thank you, Connor. I’ll meet you . . . where?”

“My family’s field,” Bevil answered.

“Thank you,” Wyl nodded, accepting Connor’s hand up.

Savannah watched Wyl take off down the path. “We just need to find Webb now.”

Vhaera came charging back to them, snuffing at Connor’s hand. He knitted his eyebrows, then looked at Savannah. “She found Pitney not too far away, and he’s in bad shape, too,” he said.

“We’ll look for the others,” Bevil clapped him on the shoulder. “Go help Pitney.”

Connor nodded, wrapping up his bundle of herbs and running down the path with Vhaera. Savannah and Bevil veered off towards another part of the village, Savannah’s heart still pumping with adrenaline. “Grey dwarves out of the Underdark and on the surface,” Bevil shook his head, looking at the amount of blood covering the blade of his sword. “Why?”

Savannah shook her head. “That’s what I hope gets answered – ” She paused, hearing the sound of swords clashing nearby. “Webb?” she shouted hopefully.

“Savannah!” a faint response came from behind the barns. “Don’t – ” There was a yelp, then a hissing sound. “Don’t know where my brothers are! I need a hand!”

Bevil charged ahead immediately, and Savannah ran on his heels. Behind the barns, Webb was holding up much better than his brothers. He was only scratched, and he still had his sword in his hand. Still, he was slowing down, and gave Bevil an immensely grateful look when the young man ran one of his attackers through. Savannah skidded to a stop nearby, eyes wide.

For these weren’t duergar attacking Ward; these were humanoid creatures with leathery skin, wielding longswords with deadly efficiency. Savannah’s throwing stars barely made dents in them, so with gritted teeth, she resorted to summoning what eldritch magic she could to drain the life from the creatures so Webb and Bevil could cut them down. When the last one fell, both Webb and Bevil collapsed against the nearest barn, sighing heavily. “Sweet Chauntea, what _are_ these?” Webb panted.

“I don’t know,” Savannah shook her head, checking Webb over quickly. “You look much better than your brothers did.”

“You found them?” Webb perked up.

“Connor was able to heal them,” Savannah nodded.

Webb sighed in relief, leaning his head back against the wood. “Thank the gods.”

“Did you find anyone else?” Bevil asked.

“No,” Webb shook his head, getting to his feet with a grimace. “I think you found everyone, or Georg gathered the rest. It was just me back here.”

“Well, I’m glad we found you,” Savannah nodded as Bevil got up, too. “I hope Connor got Pitney up.”

“We’ll need everyone West Harbor can muster if we want to take on these forces,” Webb agreed as they walked around the barn. “Especially against more of those – _what in the Hells?!”_

Savannah leapt away from the barn doors when Bevil aimed his sword. Savannah did a double take when she saw the hunched figure he was threatening. “Heh,” the duergar glared up at them. “Killed _three_ of you surfacers before they took me down . . . and the ones I killed? They screamed one by one, _begged_ me to spare them. My hands are drenched in their blood. If you have come to kill me now, so be it, but it will not bring them back.”

“This is one of the attackers?” Webb gave Savannah a quick look.

“Yes,” Bevil nodded. “And it looks like he’s dying.”

Savannah gave him a quick glance; Bevil was right. “You filthy humans,” the dwarf spat. “Your kind is weak, you cannot stop us.”

“Who’s the one lying in a puddle of his own blood?” Webb muttered.

Savannah shushed him as the dwarf continued to rant. “We will . . . pile the bodies of your surfacer kin in their homes, set them on fire . . . a . . . beacon to the rest of the villagers of this mere that . . . we are coming for them.”

“Why West Harbor?” Savannah demanded.

“Because we were _told_ to come, to search for something of silver, and we obey,” the duergar sneered. “To slaughter your village in the process only pleases us.”

“You’re _slaves?”_ Webb blinked.

“We are thralls to our masters, and we carry out their words,” the duergar huffed. “By their word, this village is to be destroyed and the object of silver found.”

“Object of silver?” Savannah frowned. “What object?”

“That is all we know,” the duergar shook his head. “And that we would know it when we found it. That was our task . . . our orders, and we obey.”

“What are the chances of anyone in the village having an object of silver?” Bevil wondered.

“We don’t,” Webb snorted.

Savannah shook her head in anger. “We don’t, either.”

The duergar snarled at them, then started choking and gurgling. Bevil and Webb grabbed Savannah by her upper arms and pulled her away as the duergar spat blood at her, narrowly missing her boots before he toppled to the ground. The three young adults stared at the corpse of the duergar on the ground, then Webb swallowed. “If these things won’t stop coming until they find what they’re looking for . . . ”

“Better see if anyone knows where we can find an object of silver,” Savannah said meekly.

* * *

They had to wait to ask, though. The next wave of attackers had already started on the militia when the trio arrived. Bevil and Webb ran to join the others, and Savannah stayed back, throwing her shuriken whenever she saw an opening with the duergar. Bevil and Webb stuck to each others’ backs, striking out at the unknown creatures. Connor was at the front of the line with Georg and Wyl, shifting between swinging his scimitar and casting what healing he had preserved. When one duergar tried his luck at stabbing her master in the back, Vhaera reared in the air and pierced him with her tusks, eyes blazing.

Ian went down first, followed by Pierson. Bevil and Webb pulled back to cover Ward when he buckled and collapsed, and when Vhaera jumped in front of a thrown dagger meant for Connor, the druid staggered and would have fallen if Wyl hadn’t supported him. Georg swore violently as Savannah started to chant faster than she thought she ever could.

Arrows ripped through the air and started dropping the incoming enemies, and Savannah whirled around to see an elf with wood-colored skin emerge from the swamps, two other archers on his heels. _“Daeghun!”_ Georg cried in relief.

The Johnsons’ foster father’s face was like stone as he released his arrows into the incoming forces and Georg, Webb, and Bevil pressed forward to take out the last of the ones charging forward. Savannah ran forward to Connor, who was wincing as he checked the dagger in Vhaera’s shoulder. “Connor,” she whispered.

“I’m fine,” he assured her, absently rubbing his own shoulder as he grasped the hilt of the dagger. “Really, I’m – ”

He pulled the dagger from Vhaera, and he grimaced at the same moment Vhaera squealed. “Very convincing, brother,” Savannah patted his shoulder, regretting it when Connor winced. “Extremely convincing.”

She almost jumped out of her skin when Bevil put a hand on her shoulder. “How is she?” he asked.

“She’ll be alright,” Connor nodded, scratching Vhaera’s ears as the boar let out a sleepy snuffle.

“That is the last of them,” Daeghun walked up, his bow at his side. “For now. Gather the wounded and the dying. Let’s see how many we can steal from death’s clutches.”

* * *

If a boar could complain, Savannah was having difficulty determining what Vhaera was upset about: her wound or Connor’s attention on those he was trying to heal. “You’re still his favorite,” she scratched the boar’s ears.

Vhaera nudged her ear affectionately as Georg and Daeghun walked up, Georg surveying Connor and Merring’s work. “Thank the gods we were able to hold them at the farm,” he sighed. “How many did we lose?”

“Ian,” Connor sat back on his heels. “Vera, Pierson . . . ”

Georg shook his head. “What were those things, anyhow? Never seen anything quite like them.”

“They’re called bladelings,” Merring answered. “Their kind is rarely seen in our realm. They dwell in a place beyond.”

“Well, then, what in the Nine Hells were they doing here?” Georg scowled.

“Lathander doesn’t illuminate all mysteries for me,” Merring shook his head. “We must rely on our own wit and resources.”

“We found a dwarf who said they were ordered to search for something,” Bevil spoke up.

“I don’t suppose anyone knows what it was?” Georg looked around.

Webb started to open his mouth, but Daeghun cut across him. “Lad, lass, come over here.” Connor looked up in surprise, then looked at Merring. The priest nodded, telling Connor he could handle the rest, and Connor stood, brushing his pants off before walking over to Daeghun with Savannah. Daeghun looked both of them over, then nodded. “I see you are both unharmed. Many have not been so fortunate, and others have seen their final night. I understand one of your friends was badly wounded in the attack. I hope she recovers quickly. She is a promising young mage.”

“Thank you,” Connor nodded, sighing and scratching his head. “I’m glad I could heal her before she passed. If I hadn’t . . . ”

“Do not burden yourself by dwelling on what might have been,” Daeghun put a hand on his shoulder. “Direct your thoughts to the present, and I do not have much time to talk. There are many who are wounded, Connor, but there is something you must do tonight. Those bladelings were here to find something, and I fear I know what.”

“The duergar we found said they were looking for an object of silver,” Savannah informed him.

Daeghun closed his eyes, suddenly looking his many hundred years. “It is as I feared. There is an item, a silver shard. Long ago, I concealed it in the old stones outside of town.”

“Where did it come from?” Savannah frowned.

Daeghun sighed. “It is from the time when your mother died. Those were dark times for the village . . . “ He shook his head. “We can speak more of the shard after you’ve returned. For now, all that matters is its retrieval.”

Savannah could have been knocked over with a feather. “Our _mother?”_ Savannah gawked, eyes wide. “You never talk about her!”

“There’s no time for that now,” Daeghun shook his head. “Your mother is dead – let her spirit rest.”

Savannah clenched her jaw. “Yeah? You’re the one that hid it, so why don’t _you_ just get it?”

“There are too many wounded to care for, more than Brother Merring can handle on his own,” Daeghun countered. “I cannot go, so you two must travel there in my place. There is no choice in this matter.”

Savannah opened her mouth to argue again, but her brother’s sharp voice in her mind stopped him. _“Anna!”_ She turned to meet her brother’s emerald green eyes. _“We’ll ask him later,”_ Connor promised. _“But the sooner we end a threat to West Harbor, the sooner we get the answers we want.”_ Savannah simmered, but nodded jerkily and looked away. Connor sighed in relief, then looked at Daeghun. “What do we need to do?”

“The stones outside of town are older and deeper than you may think,” Daeghun answered. “In the farthest chamber of these ruins, look for a strongbox. Inside is the shard.”

Connor raised an eyebrow at Savannah, who shrugged. “Sounds simple enough,” she gave her opinion.

“There remains only one thing,” Daeghun said. “You should not go alone. Bevil!” he called sharply, and Connor’s best friend jumped, startled. “I need you to accompany my children to the ruins. This is an important task.”

Bevil sputtered in shock. “But Georg says the ruins have been overrun by lizardling tribes – !”

“And that is why you must go,” Daeghun cut across him. “The more who go, the more likely you will succeed.” He looked behind him when someone Merring was tending to screamed in pain, and he shook his head. “The cries of the wounded cannot be ignored any longer. Find the shard and bring it here.”

Connor nodded, and Daeghun walked over to help Merring. Bevil finally cleared his throat. “No offense meant, Connor . . . but your father makes the hairs on my neck stand up.”

“None taken,” Savannah muttered.

Connor sighed, patting his knee, and Vhaera trotted over. “We should get going. It’s urgent.”

Bevil nodded, pointing past the barn. “The path that runs along the river is our best route into the swamp.”

Connor nodded and headed off. Savannah took one last look over her shoulder at the villagers gathering together to look after the wounded before she followed Connor, Bevil on her heels.


	4. III ~ Savannah II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A druid, a warlock, a boar, and a fighter explore some ruins and learn more about the war that destroyed West Harbor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Neverwinter Nights 2 Original Campaign, its recognizable storyline, dialogue or characters. It is owned by Obsidian Entertainment, Atari, and its associates.

By the time they made it to the first set of ruins, Savannah’s boots were caked in mud up to her ankles. _“This_ is why I’m not a druid,” she muttered, shaking her foot as Connor inspected the ruins they were in front of and Vhaera tried to paw beetle guts off her tusks. “I’ll never understand how you deal with this, Connor.”

“You’d be surprised how long it took me to,” Connor said absently, turning to Bevil and tilting his head at the ruins. “It’s definitely this one.”

“I think so, too,” Bevil nodded, wiping his sword down. “I saw the other building. It’s still sealed shut.”

“And this one has scratches on it,” Connor easily opened the door. “Let’s see how many lizardmen we can sneak past.”

* * *

As it turned out, they could sneak past several of them. Only a half-dozen were able to catch them moving through the ruins, but Connor and Bevil’s weapons won against claws and arrows.

By the time they made it into the deepest part of the ruins, Bevil’s hair was disheveled, Connor was holding his arm awkwardly, and Vhaera was limping on three of her hooves. “This had better be worth it,” Bevil muttered.

“Let’s hope,” Savannah agreed as Connor shouldered the door open.

He stopped in his tracks, making Savannah run into him. She was about to complain until she saw the collection of lizardmen in front of an altar in the room. “Oh great spirits of the Stone Tomb, please hear our plea!” the lizardman behind the altar hissed. “The other lizardling tribes take our territory. They wage war, and before we fight them for our ancestral hatching grounds, we ask for your blessings!”

“Oh, gods,” Savannah closed her eyes, dropping her forehead onto Connor’s shoulder; she regretted it instantly when Connor inhaled sharply and winced as he rubbed it.

“There certainly are a lot of them,” Bevil swallowed hard. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

“Shh!” Connor glared at him.

Bevil gulped when the lizardmen all turned to them. Immediately, the shaman behind the altar narrowed his eyes to slits. “A warmblood, here?!” he spat. “Your very presence offends the stone god!”

Savannah swallowed hard, but Connor took a deep breath. “When this land was once ours, my . . . _tribe_. . . left something here.”

The shaman frowned. “And this gives you the right to intrude on our lands?”

“We mean you no harm,” Connor promised, waving his hand to encompass himself, Savannah, and Bevil. “And we wish to live in peace with you and your clan.”

The shaman scowled. “What do you propose then, warmblood?”

“When this land belonged to my people, we buried an object of great importance here,” Connor answered. “All that I ask is we retrieve it and leave in peace.”

The shaman walked over to him, staring long and hard at the druid. Connor stared back, not showing any sign of weakness, and the shaman hissed. “We will let you retrieve this object, warmblood,” he decided. “But you shall leave once you have concluded your business.”

“Thank you,” Connor nodded gratefully.

The shaman nodded back, then looked at his followers. “We will leave the warmbloods in peace, brothers.”

Bevil’s jaw dropped, but he stumbled back against the wall as the shaman led the lizardlings out of the room. “What was that?!” he gaped at Connor in shock.

Connor blew out his breath in a rush. “That was me . . . sincerely hoping I wasn’t going to end up as their next meal.”

“I am _infinitely_ glad you’re the diplomatic one of the two of us,” Savannah said gratefully as she started scouring the room. “I probably would’ve attacked.”

“Probably?” Connor snorted.

“I would’ve,” Savannah admitted, then paused in front of a chest. “Here.”

Connor walked over and peered over her shoulder. “Strongbox,” he nodded in agreement, crouching down. Savannah helped him lift the lid of the chest, then looked inside.

To her, the velvet-wrapped bundle looked unremarkable. Connor, however, tensed and stared. “Connor?” she asked quietly.

He slowly reached inside and picked up the bundle. He flinched when he touched the fabric, then lifted it up and unwrapped it. Savannah’s eyes widened when she saw the smooth silver shard resting in the palm of Connor’s hand, and Connor exhaled shakily. “I _definitely_ understand why someone would want to find this,” he said quietly.

Bevil, on the other hand, took one look at the shard and exploded. “We were risking life and limb for _that?!_ None of this makes any sense! Daeghun can do his own blasted quests from now on. When you’re done searching around, let’s get out of here.”

Connor silently nodded, and Bevil did an about face and headed for the door. “Do you know what it is?” Savannah asked Connor quietly as they followed his best friend.

“No,” Connor shook his head, swallowing. “But I can _feel_ it humming with power.”

* * *

Daeghun looked relieved when the group returned to West Harbor. “You have returned . . . and you have brought the shard.”

“That’s all you can say?” Bevil shouted. “I almost _died_ out there!”

Daeghun didn’t skip a beat. “If I did not believe you could handle the task, I would have sent another.”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t out there in the swamp getting attacked by lizardfolk!”

“No,” Daeghun said icily, “I was here attending to the wounded, Bevil. Now find Merring and do the same.”

Bevil clenched his jaw, then snorted and walked off. “I don’t see how you put up with him.”

Savannah raised an eyebrow at Connor, who sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “He risked a lot to help us,” he reminded Daeghun. “He’s all who can support his mother after Lorne vanished.”

“I know,” Daeghun nodded. “But this talk is for our ears alone, and he will not serve you where you are bound.”

Connor nodded in agreement, pulling the bundle out of his bag. “What were those ruins in the swamp?” he asked.

“Many such ruins lie within the Mere and beneath it,” Daeghun answered. “They are of ancient Illefarn, an empire once forged from an alliance of dwarves and elves. All that remains are ruins, and little else, and their empire lives on only in history books and stories.”

Connor nodded, unwrapping the bundle. The silver gleamed up at them, and Connor took a deep breath. “What is this?”

“That shard is one of a pair,” Daeghun answered. “Both were found after the battle that destroyed West Harbor long ago. My half-brother, Duncan, and I asked a mage in Neverwinter to examine the shards for enchantments, but he found nothing except a faint magical aura, a residue of the battle. And so I kept one shard, and the other I gave to Duncan. Not long after I returned to West Harbor, I sealed it away in the ruins.”

Savannah had so many questions, but only one demanded an answer at the moment. “We have an _Uncle?”_

Connor snorted loudly, and Daeghun looked faintly amused. “So to speak. It would be more appropriate to say that _I_ have a half-brother. Duncan, like Bevil, has many faults that would make it wise not to rely on him or call him kin.”

Savannah’s eyes flared at the insult to Bevil, but Connor, who looked moments from collapsing where he stood, continued with his questions. “How long ago was this battle in West Harbor fought?”

“It was long ago,” Daeghun answered. “And it was a battle that did not concern West Harbor, but the village was caught up in it, like many such villages in the Mere of Dead Men. We knew little about what had sparked the conflict. Demons were involved, led by a warlock of great power. We only knew him as the King of Shadows.” The very name made a chill run down Savannah’s spine, and she shivered. Connor’s face paled, but he nodded for Daeghun to continue. “The forces of Neverwinter attempted to drive the demons back. Many villagers fled, some taking the road, others wading into the swamp, anything to escape the battle. There was an explosion, pure and white, then nothing more.”

Connor looked down at the shard, frowning and scratching his head. “You said there was a _faint_ magical aura . . . but I feel something much stronger coming from the shard.”

“Strange,” Daeghun tilted his head. “Perhaps the attack awakened it.” He nodded decisively. “If so, then perhaps a second look at these shards would yield different results, but such divinations would be beyond anyone here in West Harbor, including Tarmas.”

“So who can we take it to?”

“I need you to go to the city of Neverwinter,” Daeghun responded. “Find my half-brother Duncan, retrieve the second shard, and take it to a mage all of you can trust. Duncan owns an inn in the Docks District of the city, the Sunken Flagon.” He wrinkled his nose. “Not the most . . . _reputable_ place, but safe enough.”

“And how do we get to Neverwinter?” Savannah asked.

“Head to the small port town of Highcliff when you are free of the swamp,” Daeghun answered. “There, seek passage to Neverwinter. The beasts that attacked us will leave West Harbor alone once they realize their quarry has fled. If all goes well, you should be in Neverwinter before they find your trail. Say your farewells – your boots may travel many roads before you return. I let some of the others know you are leaving, but not the why of it.”

* * *

“A silver shard?” Amie asked when Savannah stopped by her bed, her best friend’s skin still burned. “What would outsiders want with a piece of silver?”

“I haven’t touched it, but Connor says when he holds it, he feels strong magic,” Savannah answered. “He can’t tell what, but it must be important.”

Amie hummed thoughtfully. “Well, as much as I’ll miss you, I’m glad you’re leaving together. You’re stronger together than you are apart.” She smiled up at Savannah. “Just promise to come back, all right? I want to hear _everything.”_

Savannah giggled, giving her friend a careful hug. “I will.”

The door opened, and Connor entered with Bevil. “I think Orlen gave us two weeks’ worth of his pork jerky,” the druid announced, peering into his pack with an amused expression.

“And how did Vhaera take that?” Savannah giggled.

Connor sighed. “She was still glaring at him when we came here.”

Both girls laughed, though Bevil shook his head. “I wish we could come with you,” he sighed. “But someone needs to help take care of the village.”

“It’s in good hands,” Connor clapped him on the shoulder. “Take care of everyone for us?”

“I will,” Bevil promised, giving Savannah a quick hug.

“Good luck,” Amie hugged Connor when he bent down.

“Thank you,” Connor rubbed her back. “Get better soon.”

“I will,” Amie nodded.

Bevil led them out the door, back to where Daeghun was waiting. “One more thing,” he said, making the twins stop. “If you run across the one who hurt Amie . . . stick a blade through his heart for me,” he requested. “She deserves that at least.”

Connor nodded. “Gladly.”

Bevil gave him a tight hug before walking over to join his mother, Retta, who was comforting his two young siblings. Savannah sighed, looking around the village. “I can’t believe we’re leaving.”

“Definitely not under these circumstances,” Connor agreed, carefully placing the shard into the pack on his right hip. “But if it means everyone is safe . . . ”

Savannah conceded the point with a nod, following Connor down the path back to Daeghun. Their foster father raised an eyebrow as they approached. “Have you said your farewells?”

“We’re ready to go,” Connor confirmed.

Daeghun nodded. “To get to Neverwinter, take the road that borders the Starling farm out of town. It is the only road through the Mere of Dead Men, so following it will be easy. I’ve made it known that you travel directly for the city in the hopes that the enemy will pursue you along the High Road. Instead, you will head to the small port of Highcliff once you are clear of the swamp. From there, you will seek passage on a ship to Neverwinter.”

“Why by boat?” Connor asked.

“Your trip to Neverwinter will be quicker by water, and my attempt at misdirection may allow you to reach Highcliff before the enemy becomes aware of your true route,” Daeghun answered. He looked around the village, then sighed. “I have nothing more to say. It is time for you to go, my children. Each moment you remain here brings greater risk to the village.”

Connor nodded. “Thank you, Father.”

“I wish you good luck,” Daeghun bowed slightly. “Safe travels.”

He walked off to speak to Georg and Merring, and Connor turned to Savannah, taking a deep breath. “Are you ready?”

Savannah looked around the village one last time, then smiled when Bevil and Retta waved to them. Savannah waved in farewell, then straightened her shoulders and turned to Connor. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quintet is now down to a trio, but that gets fixed next update.


	5. IV ~ Connor II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stop me if you've heard this before: a druid, a warlock, and a boar walk into an inn . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Neverwinter Nights 2 Original Campaign, its recognizable storyline, dialogue or characters. It is owned by Obsidian Entertainment, Atari, and its associates.

Wyl had often teased Connor that trees were a druid’s best friend, but he hadn’t let that get under his skin. In fact, he knew if Wyl could see what he could do with trees, he figured the other Harborman would be eating his words. They were on the fifth day of their travels towards Highcliff when the rain had started.

Connor had pulled them under a weeping willow tree and directed the branches to cover them, leading to the rain rolling down the branches to the ground. “Gods, am I glad you’re a druid,” Savannah sighed in relief, settling down against the trunk of the tree. “I’d just climb the tree.”

“We lived with the best ranger in the Mere,” Connor reminded Savannah, settling next to her. “You’d have to remember if you climbed a tree, you’d probably get wetter.”

Savannah sighed, leaning her head back against the trunk. “How much further until that inn? I wouldn’t say no to a mattress for a night.”

Connor removed the map of the Sword Coast he had gotten from Tarmas, spreading it out on Savannah’s knapsack. He analyzed it critically, then shrugged. “Depending on when we get up in the morning, we should make it to the Weeping Willow Inn by dinner time tomorrow.”

“That would be great,” Savannah nodded, closing her eyes and trying to make herself comfortable against the tree. When Connor saw her frown and shift restlessly, he chuckled and gestured to Vhaera. His boar chuffed and shuffled over to Savannah, nudging her. Savannah cracked one eye open, then saw Vhaera curl up next to her, looking at her expectantly. Savannah smiled softly, then adjusted her position so she was lying against the boar. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

“You’re welcome,” Connor patted her ankle, shifting so he could find a comfortable place on the ground.

* * *

“I spy with my eye something . . . green.”

Connor sighed, turning to walk backwards while he thought. “My eyes,” he guessed.

“No.”

 _“Your_ eyes.”

“I can’t see my own eyes, Connor.”

He rolled his own eyes, turning back around to catch up with Savannah. “The peat moss.”

 _“That’s_ the type of moss it is?”

Connor’s cheeks flushed as Savannah laughed loudly. “I take it that’s a no.”

“Oh, you are _such_ a druid,” Savannah giggled hysterically.

“What else am I supposed to be, a pyromaniac?” Connor asked defensively, holding up his hands.

“No,” Savannah waved him off. “That’ll be me once I figure out how to transmute my eldritch power into brimstone blasts.”

“Just don’t practice on any trees,” Connor put a hand on her shoulder.

“Never,” Savannah agreed.

They walked in silence for a while longer before Connor twirled his finger in the air. “This weird fog?”

“Hells!” Savannah groaned, facepalming. “I was hoping you’d forgotten.”

Connor laughed victoriously. “My turn!”

“OK,” Savannah nodded, wringing one of her feet around. “Then maybe we’ll find a place to stop.”

“All right,” Connor nodded, looking around their surroundings. “I spy with my eye – ” Raised voices caught his attention, and he stopped short, blinking. “Something that’s wood.”

Savannah snorted loudly, but Connor held out his hand to stop her. The road looked lighter up ahead, and he could see the beginnings of a log fence by what appeared to be an entrance. “The Weeping Willow?” Savannah asked hopefully.

“I think so,” Connor nodded, walking on.

Savannah jogged to keep up with him, and when Connor rounded the corner, he stopped short. Three humans were arguing loudly in front of the two-story inn, clubs in their hands. In front of them was a short, stocky, well-muscled dwarf with light skin and a full, dark-brown beard bound with a simple yellow cord. Connor was relieved that this wasn’t one of the duergar that had attacked West Harbor; this was a shield dwarf from the mountains.

And he seemed to be goading the others. “Now that we’re outside, maybe you’d like to tell me what you said again,” the dwarf narrowed his eyes. _“Slowly_ this time, so you can think about what you’re saying!”

“You’re a small one to be taking this road all by yourself, dwarf,” one of the humans spat. “Maybe you’ve come looking for trouble . . . unless you have a little coin to convince us otherwise.”

“Tavern brawl?” Savannah muttered distastefully.

“One gone wrong, maybe,” Connor muttered back before coughing meaningfully, drawing attention to them. “What’s going on here?” he asked.

“Nothing that concerns you,” the human in charge sneered. “This is between us and the dwarf, and whatever coin he happens to have with him.”

“Ah,” the dwarf nodded. “You’re welcome to try to take it, if you’re all game. You all can’t be frightened of one little dwarf, can you? If you’re afraid of being humiliated in front of the stranger and the pretty lass here . . . well, now, that’s another matter.”

He gave the twins a cheery smile, and unable to help himself, Connor chuckled behind his hand. Savannah openly laughed, making the first human sputter angrily. “We’re not frightened of any of you! And it seems to me you need to learn a lesson!”

“This isn’t worth someone’s life,” Connor began.

“This matter is between us and the dwarf here!” the man shouted. “It’s none of your concern!”

The dwarf sighed loudly. “Come on! Someone try and hit me already! Even the newcomer here sees that you’re all too afraid to do anything.”

“All right, I’ve heard _enough_ of this,” the man growled, hefting his club. “Come on, boys. Let’s deal with the dwarf and his new friends.”

Connor shook his head, looking at Vhaera as he drew his scimitar. “Knock them out, girl.”

Vhaera charged forward, Connor behind her to help. The dwarf had one of the brawlers handled already; it took one punch to disarm him, then another punch to the head to knock him out. Connor easily twisted his scimitar the correct way to disarm another, and Vhaera sprawled him out on the ground, knocking him out. Savannah conjured a cone of her magic and directed it at the last brawler’s chest; it made him stumble and veer sideways, his very drunken state causing him to trip repeatedly. The dwarf threw a sharp punch to his head, putting him out of his misery.

Connor examined all of them, hoping none of them were dead. He was relieved to know they were all just knocked unconscious. _Maybe next time they won’t drink as much,_ he thought dryly, knowing it was only wishful thinking.

He was brought out of his musings by the roaring laughter of the dwarf. “Well, now, that was a good fight! A shame they had to resort to weapons, but if they have to keep the odds even, can’t blame them too much.”

“Guess I’m guilty of that, too,” Connor eyed his scimitar as he sheathed it.

“Nah, lad,” the dwarf waved it off. “Glad for your help. And yours as well, lass,” he added, nodding at Savannah as she walked up. “Name’s Khelgar, by the way – of the Clan Ironfist. Been making my way along the Coast for some time now, stopped in the Willow here for a brief fight.”

Connor smiled, shaking the dwarf’s offered hand. “I’m Connor Johnson, this is my sister, Savannah, and my animal companion Vhaera. Nice to meet you, Khelgar.”

“You seem rather calm, considering these men wanted to kill you,” Savannah raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, it’s a shame,” Khelgar sighed. “I was just looking to trade a few punches, then share a drink when it was all done. Either way, they get my coin, the way I saw it.”

Connor snorted loudly, toeing one drunk with his boot. “Well, they don’t look like they’ll be waking for a drink anytime soon.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Khelgar huffed. “They weren’t worthy of a drink anyway, bringing blades into it. A friendly brawl, I would have been up for . . . but robbery with weapons?” He shook his head. “So tell me, what brings you out along the Mere? Roads aren’t exactly safe, you know, and they’re getting worse all the time.”

Connor considered for a moment, then nodded decisively. Shield dwarves were much more honorable than their grey dwarf counterparts, and Khelgar didn’t seem the type to want to kill them. “We’re on our way to Neverwinter.”

Khelgar brightened. “Seems it’s your lucky day, then. I happen to be traveling to Neverwinter as well.”

Connor’s eyebrows shot up. “What brings a shield dwarf from the mountains to Neverwinter?”

“Now _that’s_ a tale,” Khelgar said gleefully. “Glad you asked! But can’t discuss it without a tankard or two, I think. I say we step inside the Weeping Will here and share our stories over a few of the innkeeper’s best.”

Connor smiled and nodded. “We planned on stopping for the night, anyway.”

“Well, then,” Khelgar gestured to the door. “After you, lad.”

* * *

Savannah finished off her goblet of whitethistle berry wine, licking her lips to get what had remained. Connor watched her pick another grape from her plate, then snuck one of the ribs from his and snuck it down under the table. From where she curled up at his feet, Vhaera took the offered rib and munched happily on the remaining meat.

Across from them, Khelgar downed the rest of his ale as he finished his story. “ . . . so then I punched him in the face for asking, and while he was trying to pick his teeth off the floor, his friend decided to add a few choice words about my heritage. So I punched _him,_ too.”

“That’s a lot of punching,” Savannah muttered.

Connor choked on his apple, but Khelgar didn’t seem to notice. “So to make a long story short, I take pride in what I do: fighting. It’s something you can’t get enough of, and it’s something where there’s always room for improvement, if you apply yourself, stay focused, and keep swinging. And that’s why I’m headed to Neverwinter. I heard there’s a house of monks there . . . a monastery, right? Heard they’ll train anyone, just for the asking. Couldn’t ask for a better opportunity.”

Connor took a drink from his goblet – just water for him – while he pondered what he should ask first. Savannah did it for him. “You want to become a monk?” she asked.

“Aye,” Khelgar confirmed. “That’s the short of it.”

“ . . . a dwarven monk.”

Khelgar snorted. “No stranger than half of what takes place in Faerûn, I can tell you that.”

Connor snickered as Savannah blushed. “You have a point,” he agreed. “But why a monk?”

“Ah,” Khelgar nodded. “As it happens, I didn’t _always_ want to become a monk. What happened was – ”

The door suddenly crashed inwards, and four heads – two human, one dwarf, and one boar – shot up as one of the bladelings and two duergar stormed the inn. “The _Kalach-Cha,”_ the bladeling hissed, a wicked longsword slashing the air. “Find it!”

 _“Kalach-Cha?”_ Savannah blinked rapidly, looking at Connor.

He shook his head in bewilderment; he soaked up languages like a sponge, and he had never heard that term before. “It’s new to me.”

“Yeh know them, lad?” Khelgar jumped down from his chair.

“Meet the beings who attacked our village,” Connor gestured.

As if on cue, the bladeling spat in his direction and barreled forward. “Well, how about that,” Khelgar grinned widely, and Connor watched him heft the wicked-looking axe he had against the table leg. “Our next round of practice just arrived!”

Connor shook his head, but as the dwarf ran forward to meet his dark counterparts with a yell of “Clan Ironfist!” he couldn’t help but draw his scimitar with a smile on his face. “Can’t let him have them all!” he shouted to Savannah, who grinned and snatched her throwing stars.

Khelgar hacked away at the duergar, his axe whirling from one to the next. Connor realized as he locked blades with the bladeling, though, that more of the duergar had poured into the inn after the others and were converging on the other commoners in the lobby. Savannah seemed to notice it, too, as she abandoned her stars and grabbed one of the steak knives that hadn’t been used. She sprinted across the lobby as one of the duergar raised his dagger on a cowering blonde woman, then tackled it to the ground and dug the knife into his throat.

Connor finally twisted his blade away from the bladeling’s and stabbed it through the gut, then kicked the body off his scimitar. A pained cry behind him made him spin around, and a scream came from the blonde woman Savannah just saved. “Zachan!” she exclaimed.

Connor finally found a man with greying hair on the ground, swarmed by two other bladelings. As Khelgar dispatched the last grey dwarf, Connor whistled for Vhaera and charged the last of the outsiders. Savannah tossed a star in the air before launching it past Connor’s ear, sinking it into one bladeling’s shoulder. As it shrieked in anger, Vhaera knocked its feet out from under it and pierced it with her tusks. As its partner swung around, raising its longsword high, Connor pulled his hunting knife from its sheath on his calf and shoved it through the bladeling’s chin, up into its brain. As the bladeling choked and blood gushed down the hilt and over Connor’s glove, he pulled his knife back out sharply, grimacing as the bladeling collapsed like a sack of potatoes. “Gods,” he shook his head, sheathing his scimitar and gingerly setting his knife on the ground, then undid the straps of his bracers to remove his glove. “That’s a bit messier than I expected it to be.”

“Nice kill, lad,” Khelgar peered over his shoulder. “You all right?”

“I’m fine, Khelgar,” Connor nodded, turning to the man looking wide-eyed at him from the ground. “What about you?” he asked, looking him up and down. “Are you hurt?”

“N – no,” Zachan shook his head, accepting Connor’s hand up. “If you hadn’t been here, though . . . ”

“Thank you,” the blonde woman sniffed as she ran over, checking Zachan over herself. “Thank you _so_ much.”

“You’re welcome,” Connor nodded, watching Savannah come over. “Maybe while we’re on the road, I should teach you how to use an actual knife,” he smirked, nodding at the steak knife she still held.

“Shut up,” she sighed.

Khelgar grunted, eyeing the many bodies covering the tile floor of the inn. “You seem to have a knack for finding trouble.”

Connor snorted, only half-joking when he said, “Stay with us and we’ll most likely bring you all the brawls you can handle.”

Khelgar laughed loudly and clapped him on the back. “And that’s quite a lot!” He paused when Connor’s knees buckled and the tired youth had to put a hand on Vhaera to keep on his feet. “Steady there, lad,” he frowned in concern. “Yeh look dead on your feet.”

“Well, considering all we planned on when coming here was a meal and sleep,” Connor shook his head as Savannah looked him over in concern, “I probably do.”

The blonde woman immediately waved the innkeeper over. “We will pay for your night here,” she declared.

“Madam, please,” Connor began to protest.

“Call me Gera, please,” the woman shook her head. “My husband and I weren’t the only ones without weapons here. If not for you, we might not have lived. Please, let us do this for you.”

“Please,” Zachan added.

Connor opened his mouth to protest again, but a wave of fatigue washed over him, and Khelgar gripped his arm to keep him from falling. “Thank you,” Savannah said for him.

Gera nodded and spoke more with the innkeeper. “Come on, lad,” Khelgar nudged Connor. “Upstairs with you.”

* * *

When Connor woke up the next morning feeling more rested than he had in days, he found that Gera and Zachan had paid for him and Savannah to spend the night in a two-bed room. His sister was still sprawled out on her bed, and Vhaera was still sleeping from where she had kept watch by the door. Connor took a moment to pick up his scimitar sheath and scratch his companion on the head before he opened the door.

He was surprised to find Khelgar walking up the stairs, a tray of food in his hands. “Mornin’, lad,” he greeted with a smile. “Good to see you up.”

“Good morning, Khelgar,” Connor smiled back. “Did you have a good night?”

“I did,” Khelgar nodded. “The nice couple paid for my stay last night, too. Rather kind of them.”

“I agree,” Connor nodded, looking back in his room when he heard Savannah mumble incoherently, which meant she was waking up. “Would you like to come in?”

“If it’s no trouble, lad,” Khelgar nodded. “I have a proposition for you and your sister.”

“Really?” Connor raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the table inside.

“I do,” Khelgar nodded, setting the tray down as Savannah sat up in bed, scratching the back of her head. “You see, I’ve had a good time so far. And the way you attract trouble . . . well, I haven’t had this much fun since that tavern back at Bogen’s Pass where I was using that trestle table as a battering ram.”

“A table?” Savannah mumbled, blinking sleep out of her eyes.

“My idea is this,” Khelgar hopped into a chair, looking serious. “We’re headed in the same direction and the two of you seem to have more enemies than friends. What say we travel together? Might be able to teach each other a few things.”

Connor brightened at the thought. Khelgar’s optimism was infectious, and from the way Savannah was smiling, she thought it was a good idea, too. Besides, the dwarf had looked after both of them last night, and it was good to have someone watching their backs. “You have a deal, Khelgar,” Connor told the dwarf, holding out his hand. “Let’s get to Neverwinter together.”

“Good,” Khelgar beamed, shaking his hand. “I’d be glad for the company, and the conversation.”

“And the brawls?” Savannah asked cheekily.

“That, too, lass,” Khelgar agreed with a laugh. “And don’t you worry about me keeping up. Khelgar Ironfist carries his own weight. I won’t be slowing you down.”

“OK, that just made me have more questions,” Savannah leaned forward eagerly.

Connor was content to sit back and listen as Khelgar indulged Savannah in the tale of Bogen’s Pass as the dwarf passed around breakfast for them: fruits for Connor while he and Savannah ate the bacon and eggs. Khelgar even tossed a piece of cooked ham to Vhaera, which earned him a happy boar chomping away at her meal at his feet.

Khelgar was right, it was a good idea to have more friends than enemies on the road to Highcliff, and judging by the attack on the inn, they had several more enemies ahead. _Better keep an eye out for others to help us,_ he decided. _Better safe than sorry._


	6. V ~ Connor III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A druid, a warlock, a dwarf, and a boar meet a new companion and find a familiar face at Fort Locke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Neverwinter Nights 2 Original Campaign, its recognizable storyline, dialogue or characters. It is owned by Obsidian Entertainment, Atari, and its associates.

The one thing Connor thought of that he could complain about in the Mere was how dreary and dark days could get. He was constantly surrounded by nature, that was no problem for him as a druid, but sunny skies were few and far between. The last time West Harbor had looked cheerful at all was the High Harvest Fair that had taken place the day before the attack. Sure, sun pierced the trees once in a while, but clear skies hadn’t occurred often.

When he, Savannah, and Khelgar came out of the Mere and into the grasslands, Connor couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when they were hit with sunlight. “Bah,” Khelgar held a hand over his eyes, wincing at the brightness. “We could’ve done better with gradual light.”

“I would’ve thought dwarves came out into direct sunlight often, given how you dig underground,” Savannah remarked, though she, too, winced as she tried to avoid being blinded.

“That’s true, lass,” Khelgar nodded as Connor examined his map. “We dwarves do build underground. Doesn’t mean we care for being blinded when we come back up.”

“I don’t think anyone would,” Connor rolled the map back up. “Fort Locke should be at the top of those cliffs back there. We can restock before going to Highcliff.”

Khelgar grunted, nodding as he followed the druid. “You humans enjoy building on cliffs. You want a good city, build down, not high up.”

“Where exactly does your clan live, Khelgar?” Savannah wondered.

“Ah, lass, that’s a complicated question,” Khelgar smiled, pulling back to keep pace with the warlock while Connor scouted ahead. “You see, Clan Ironfist used to have a stronghold deep in the Sword Mountains. I heard it was close by one of the only water sources in the mountains . . . a well of some sort. Well, that clanhold’s been lost for decades, maybe centuries now. Still, the mountains are where my clan call home.”

“Aren’t the Sword Mountains infested with orcs?” Connor tilted his head.

“That they are,” Khelgar nodded, grinning. “But we Ironfists know how to defend our land.”

“I believe you, my friend,” Connor patted the dwarf’s shoulder as he rounded the corner. “With the skill you have – ”

He faltered, hearing a sharp sound that had him holding his arm out. Savannah, paying attention to Khelgar’s words and not her brother, bumped right into him, making her stumble. “Connor!” she protested.

“Shh!” Connor hissed, ducking behind a large tree.

Savannah quickly followed while Khelgar crouched down behind a large tree stump. The three poked their heads out cautiously. “Bandits?” Savannah asked softly.

Connor narrowed his eyes. “Unless they wear chainmail uniforms.”

Khelgar’s eyebrows raised when he saw the quartet of men in chainmail, grey cloaks emblazoned with stars surrounding a sword on their backs. “I know those uniforms, lad. Those are Greycloaks, members of Neverwinter’s army.”

“Greycloaks man the Fort,” Connor glanced past them to the huge, towering fortress behind them. “So why are they – ”

Whatever he was about to say trailed off when one of the men, wielding a wickedly sharp longsword, suddenly swung it towards the center of their circle. That was when Connor saw what had made the sharp cry; it was a young woman with short, dark red hair who nimbly ducked backwards to avoid the sword, nervously looking behind her to make sure she didn’t back up into another weapon. She wasn’t wearing armor of any kind, and she appeared unarmed, too. Savannah’s breath hitched, and she tugged Connor’s arm. “She has a tail!” she hissed.

Connor had noticed that, too; the woman had a long tail that ended in an arrowhead tip. A closer look, and he saw her pointed ears, red eyes, and short, curved horns protruding from her forehead. This wasn’t a human – this was a tiefling, a descendant of a demon or a devil.

And it looked like she was being tortured. “What, demon?” the blond-haired leader of the Greycloaks sneered, glaring at her. “No screams for us? Maybe we should brand you. Maybe that’ll loosen your tongue.”

“Leave me alone!” the tiefling snapped, narrowing her eyes. “I’ve done nothing to you!”

The Greycloak sniffed. “Well, now, Commander Vallis will be happy to hear that. It means his work here’s all done, he can just give up the Fort and go home.”

One of the other Greycloaks snorted. “Still, there’s just the _small_ matter of those bounties on bandits he posted. And a bandit with demon blood? Well, there’s no telling how much that’s worth.”

“I heard about bandits being a problem,” Khelgar frowned. “I don’t think they would get caught easily.”

“A-course,” the Greycloak leader tilted his head, “you _could_ tell us where your camp is. Vallis will pay more for that, he will, and we won’t even have to butcher the lot of you.”

“I told you, I’m _not_ with those bandits!” the tiefling shouted in exasperation. “Or are you deaf and stupid?”

 _“Stupid?”_ the Greycloak leader snarled, eyes narrowing. “Here we were, thinking of letting you live. Now you’ve gone and changed our minds.”

Connor quickly shook his head, seeing the men raise their swords, and he walked out from behind the tree, casually heading their way as if he’d been walking along the path the entire time, Vhaera behind him. Savannah and Khelgar quickly hurried to join them, drawing the attention of the group. “Eh?” one of the Greycloaks squinted, then chuckled. “Hold on. Looks like she’s got _friends,_ she does.”

Connor frowned, looking them over. “Leave that woman alone,” he ordered.

The lead Greycloak sniffed. “This don’t concern you. We’re soldiers from Fort Locke, hunting bandits.”

“That we are,” the other Greycloak nodded. “Caught this demon trying to raid our camp, and we were about to deal with her.”

“By killing her?” Connor raised an eyebrow, looking the tiefling up and down. She, in return, looked at them with wide eyes. “What did she take?”

“Nothing yet,” the Greycloak grumbled. “But her crew’s been hounding these parts. They been raiding merchants, caravans, maybe even killed the old commander!”

The tiefling finally got her voice back. “I told you, I’m _not_ with those bandits!”

“Shut your lying mouth, demon!” the Greycloak leader snapped. “You’ll get the blade soon enough!”

“You are _not_ murdering her in cold blood,” Connor narrowed his eyes.

The Greycloak leader jeered. “You think you’re going to stop us, are you?”

The other Greycloak, however, considered. “You know . . . Vallis might pay for _four_ bandit bounties. He’s not one for asking questions.”

The Greycloak leader caught on with a grin. “Especially about a demon, a runty dwarf, and two dirty Harbormen who don’t know enough to keep walking.”

“He left out the boar,” Savannah quipped.

Connor snorted loudly as Khelgar scowled. “’Runty dwarf?’” he repeated. “I know you cowards aren’t talking to me, or you’ll be talking to my fist next.”

“Good enough for me,” the other Greycloak grinned. “Let’s kill them all and I’ll sort out the tale later.”

Connor grinned and conjured one of his favored spells. Roots sprung from the ground, winding their way around the ankles of the Fort Locke soldiers, keeping them in place. As they shouted and tried to swipe at the roots, Khelgar barreled forward, axe immediately burying into one soldier’s chest. Connor drew his scimitar and headed for the leader as Savannah formed a spear of eldritch energy, expertly throwing it into one of the other Greycloaks. The Greycloak leader swung at Connor in a rage, but the druid expected it and swerved to the side, easily dodging. Vhaera charged into the Greycloak headfirst, and with the roots holding him in place, he collapsed backwards. Connor wrinkled his nose, then thrust his blade downwards, killing the soldier where he lay. “That’ll teach you,” he muttered.

A gurgle made him look up, and he was in time to see the last Greycloak choke on his own blood as he toppled to the ground, away from Savannah, who he had been about to stab in the back. Savannah swung around, startled; she came face to face with the tiefling, who had swiped a dagger from one of the soldiers and was holding it aloft, blood dripping off the blade. The tiefling quickly tucked it into her boot, though, looking around at the mess. “Where did you four come from?” she asked, moving towards the chest a few paces back. “I mean, one moment I thought I was dead, and then suddenly you’re here . . . and look at all this _blood . . . ”_

“Are you hurt?” Connor asked, seeing the bloodstains on her clothes.

The tiefling blinked rapidly, then shook her head just as quickly. “No, no,” she said. “I know how to keep myself from getting hurt. It’s not easy, but when you’re as quick as me . . . ” She abruptly shut her mouth, then blushed. “Sorry if I sound surprised,” she mumbled. “It’s just, you know, people don’t usually help me out like that. Especially, uh . . . well, people like you, you know. Nice-looking people.” She blushed even further. “Does that make me a damsel in distress? I hope not, I _hate_ those women.”

As the tiefling spoke faster and faster, Savannah started laughing until she was almost doubled over. “I like her!” she decided.

Connor grinned, too; something about the talkative tiefling cheered him up. “You don’t owe us anything,” he said, bending down and rummaging through his pack. “No one should be treated like that.”

The tiefling gawked. “You’re _nice?!”_ As Connor’s eyebrows shot up and Savannah laughed again, the tiefling ducked her head, tail swishing back and forth. “Sorry for sounding so surprised,” she muttered, scratching the back of her head. “Well, actually, I am. It’s just . . . well, unexpected.” As Connor fished a healing potion out of his bag, the tiefling continued. “I mean, once folks catch sight of me – usually it’s the horns – they run in the other direction. And all those tales about tieflings being cursed don’t help much, either.”

“Catch your breath,” Connor advised, handing the potion over.

The tiefling nodded, taking a deep breath before taking a swig of the potion. She swallowed and sighed in relief. “I’m Neeshka, by the way,” she finally introduced herself. “I’m really glad you came when you did. Wasn’t really sure how I’d get out of that one.” She scowled. “Of course, they never would’ve caught me in the first place if that ‘invisibility’ potion I bought hadn’t been watered down. If I ever see that merchant again . . . “

“I’m Connor Johnson,” the druid introduced himself. “You saved my sister Savannah, the ‘runty dwarf’ is Khelgar Ironfist – “

“Lad!” Khelgar protested.

“Sorry, Khelgar, I’m going by what they said,” Connor grinned. Khelgar grumbled something that sounded like “dirty Harborman,” but it was in a much fonder tone than the Greycloaks had used. “And this is Vhaera,” Connor finished, patting his companion on the head. “Nice to meet you, Neeshka.”

“What’re you doing way out here?” Savannah asked.

“Well, I was actually trying to pass the Fort by, make my way farther south,” Neeshka answered, waving to the towering Fort behind them. “I thought that potion I bought would help. You see, once the local garrison sees me, they tend to want to throw me in a cell or attack me on sight. Of course, the potion wears off right as I cross paths with those thugs from Fort Locke. They were looking for easy bounties, and I showed up right on time.”

Connor frowned, looking up at the Fort. He had thought stopping was a good idea, but if that was the way they were treating passerbys . . . “That’s no reason for them to want to kill you, or us.”

Neeshka sighed as she finished the healing potion and slumped to sit on the chest. “It’s been that way ever since the new Fort commander posted bounties on bandits. Some of his soldiers have been hunting down anyone they find on the road and claiming they’re ‘bandits.’ It’s just banditry of a different sort – they rob the travelers, and then get the bounty, too. The roads are even less safe now than they were before.”

“Great,” Savannah sighed. “So it’s good we’re heading to Highcliff.”

“Yes, it is,” Connor agreed. “Speaking of which, we should really get going.”

“Yeah,” Neeshka’s tail drooped. “I guess you don’t have any reason to stay . . . look, thanks for saving me, really.”

“You don’t need to thank us,” Connor waved her gratitude off. “Any decent human being should have.” He side-eyed Khelgar, who was eyeing Neeshka distastefully. “Or any decent _dwarf,”_ he said meaningfully.

“Um,” Neeshka shuffled on her feet. “Do you . . . do you think I could join you?” Connor blinked, and she hurried to explain. “Just for now! I won’t get in the way, I promise! It’s just that I don’t know how long I can survive on my own, and, well . . . I _do_ owe you one.”

“Can’t say I trust her,” Khelgar frowned. “Tieflings’ll stab you in the back and run off with your purse the moment you drop your guard.”

Neeshka immediately narrowed her eyes to slits. “Yeah? Well, dwarves are squat, smelly drunks who’ll chop someone in half just to show they’re tough!”

“Oh, is that so?” Khelgar growled as Connor and Savannah exchanged amused looks. “Why don’t you step down here and say that again!”

“No,” Connor shook his head, holding out his hand to stop Khelgar from stepping forward, Neeshka’s tail lashing at the air. “That’s enough, both of you!”

“He started it!” Neeshka pointed.

“Bah,” Khelgar shook his head. “Leave her here. She’ll be food for the other _beasts_ on the road soon enough.”

Connor scowled. “And why in the hells would _I,_ of all people, leave her on the road?” Khelgar ducked his head, thoroughly chastised, and Connor gave the tiefling a smile. “You’re coming with us.”

Neeshka’s eyes lit up. “Thanks!” she beamed happily. “I won’t let you down, I _swear.”_

* * *

 _First item of business when we reach Highcliff,_ Connor thought as he watched Savannah aid Neeshka in buckling her leather armor into place, _find an armorer and get better armor for all of us._

He was thoroughly impressed, however, as Neeshka spun a dagger in the palm of her hand, then proceeded to do the same thing on the tip of her tail. “Nice tricks,” he complimented.

“Thanks!” Neeshka smiled, walking on his other side as they trekked up the trail to Fort Locke. “I’m not strong enough to use most weapons, but I’m great with smaller ones. Daggers make it much easier to backstab someone.”

Khelgar coughed pointedly, but Savannah raised an eyebrow. “There _has_ to be a story there.”

“Well,” Neeshka held out. “Maybe later. So, what’re you going to Highcliff for?”

“We’re catching a ship to Neverwinter,” Connor answered.

 _“Neverwinter?”_ Neeshka blinked in surprise. “Hey, that’s where I grew up!”

“Is it?” Savannah brightened.

“Yeah! Though let me tell you, in recent years . . . ”

And the girls were off, talking about anything and everything. “See, Khelgar?” Connor gestured to the excited tiefling, who was waving her hands as she talked. “I know you and I will get along better than you will with Savannah. Now she has someone to connect more with.”

“I see your point, lad,” Khelgar frowned. “But I’m watching her. You know the reputation they have.”

“I know it,” Connor nodded. “I’d rather not judge a book by its cover.”

Khelgar snorted. “’Course you’re a scholar.”

Connor smiled innocently. “Well, how else will I know the recipes to antidotes or healing potions?”

Khelgar’s mouth clicked shut, and laughing, Connor led the way into the Fort. Greycloaks scattered around looked at the druid, dwarf, and boar, then again at the warlock and tiefling following behind them. As soon as she stepped foot in the Fort, Neeshka stopped, then tapped Connor’s shoulder with her tail. When Connor got over his surprise at the action, he looked at her curiously. “See how many men the Fort has?” she gestured around. Connor surveyed the Fort, noticing there were indeed many Greycloaks in uniform taking up posts inside the Fort, several looking anxious. “That’s because of the stopped patrols.”

“So they’re stuck here and not protecting the roads,” Connor scowled. “That’s not good for any Mere villages.”

“I imagine not,” a vaguely familiar voice behind them said, and Connor and Neeshka turned as a brown-haired man in more elaborate armor walked up, longsword buckled to his side. “You’re a Harborman?”

“I am,” Connor nodded, raising an eyebrow and gesturing to his sister. “Savannah and I both are.”

“I thought so,” the man nodded in satisfaction. “Harbormen are tough to miss once you’ve met one, and I’ve met plenty being from West Harbor.” He held out his hand in greeting. “I’m Cormick, City Watch Marshal of Neverwinter City. You wouldn’t have heard of me – a city watchman is hardly a glamorous profession.”

“Maybe not,” Connor hid a grin; he knew Savannah recognized the name, too, going by the giggle she made before coughing into her arm. “Cormick?” he repeated, shaking his hand. “You’re famous in West Harbor, or so they say.”

Cormick barked in laughter. “I don’t know about _famous._ West Harbor’s a small village, though, so I’m not surprised you know of me.” He paused in the handshake, then narrowed his eyes. “Wait a moment,” he said slowly, looking between Connor and Savannah. “Hair black as midnight . . . green eyes varying only by a shade . . . ” Connor and Savannah simultaneously tilted their heads to the left questioningly, and Cormick laughed heartily. “And the same actions! I recognize you! Daeghun’s foster children! Imagine running into you two here! How’s the old man nowadays?”

“He’s doing well,” Connor grinned as Savannah openly laughed. “Thank you for asking.”

“Good man, Daeghun,” Cormick said fondly. “Especially to take you two in. Last I remember, Connor, you took quite a shine to the swamps.” He crouched down, peering at the grey boar looking curiously at him. “Going by that scimitar you carry, you’re not a ranger.”

“Druid,” Connor corrected. “This is Vhaera.”

“Hello, there,” Cormick greeted the boar, who nudged his hands in greeting. “And you, Savannah?” he looked up.

“Warlock,” she answered.

“What a pair you two make,” Cormick smiled as he stood again. “You’d be quite the pair. Or quartet, I see,” he eyed the other two.

Khelgar grunted in acknowledgement while Neeshka gave a cautious wave. “What brought you from Neverwinter?” Connor asked Cormick curiously.

Cormick’s face immediately set in a frown. “I’d heard rumors that the garrison here stopped its patrols,” he answered. “Figure I’d look into it; I’ve always trusted my gut, and it wasn’t happy. And, of course, it turns out the rumors were true. No patrols, meaning the roads are crawling with bandits and worse now.”

“And attacks on Mere villages,” Connor added. “West Harbor came under attack recently.”

“What?!” Cormick shouted, making Neeshka wince. “I _knew_ it! I told Vallis to restart the patrols, but I honestly wonder if being in command has gone to his head.”

“Why would he make them stop?” Savannah frowned, folding her arms.

“One or more patrols have gone missing, from what I gather,” Cormick responded with a snort. “If it were me, I’d gather a large force and investigate. Not Vallis, though . . . ”

Khelgar snorted. “Wonder who the Marshal isn’t a fan of,” he muttered under his breath.

Neeshka snickered in agreement. “Vallis, there’s a ‘by the book’ soldier,” Cormick continued. “He’s called for reinforcements from Neverwinter, and until they arrive, he’s hunkering down. I tried to explain to him that Neverwinter doesn’t have any troops to spare, not after that business with Luskan, but he’s sticking to the rules. No initiative in that man, I tell you.”

Connor frowned. “Maybe there’s something we can do.”

“I hope so,” Cormick sighed. “The sooner patrols are out on the roads, the safer everyone will be.”

* * *

Vallis was a man with perfectly polished dark armor and a gleaming longsword, his dark hair slicked back while he looked down his nose at the approaching party.

Connor disliked him immediately, and that was before he opened his mouth. “Ah, strangers in Fort Locke,” he said. “If there’s something you want, be quick about it. I have a garrison to run.”

“And what a _magnificent_ job he’s doing,” Savannah whispered to Neeshka, who giggled.

Connor simply raised an eyebrow. “Are you the commander here?”

“I am,” Vallis nodded. “And let me tell you, with Fort Locke being the way it is nowadays, it’s a good thing. These ‘soldiers’ need military discipline, and by the gods, that’s what they’ll get.”

“And they’ll get that stuck here in the garrison?”

Vallis snorted. “I’m not sending them on patrols, not when we’ve lost a number of them recently, including one led by Commander Tann. I’m not about to send god men chasing after dead ones, not until I can replace those that we’ve lost.”

“So you’re just filling in for the commander,” Connor realized.

Vallis narrowed his eyes. _“Filling in?”_ he scoffed. “That fool Tann allowed this place to fall apart. I’ve spent every waking moment bringing order back to the garrison. He’s been missing too long anyhow, probably met the same fate as the other patrols we’ve lost. I’ve already sent news to Neverwinter of his loss. It’s merely a formality before I officially take charge of this garrison.”

Savannah coughed meaningfully. “And you don’t think they’ll want proof of your commander’s death before promoting you?”

Vallis frowned. “True,” he said grudgingly. “I hadn’t thought of that. But I can’t spare the men for an investigation. Three patrols lost, refugees trickling in, and with discipline in shambles, we’d be hard pressed to hold this Fort with what we have.”

Connor raised an eyebrow at Savannah, who nodded back. “What if we were to handle this for you?” he suggested.

Vallis’s eyebrows shot up. “You, civilians, helping a military garrison with an investigation? Why?”

“We want you to resume the patrols.”

“Absolutely not,” Vallis immediately shook his head. “Until I know what happened to the others, I’m not risking any more men.”

Connor absently examined his scimitar hilt, loftily saying, “But imagine how favorably your superiors would look upon your promotion if you settled this without further loss of men.”

Vallis considered. “Fine, I’ll resume the patrols contingent upon completion of your investigation. I want to know what happened out there.”

Connor nodded, unrolling the map he had. “Where should we begin looking?”

Vallis examined his map before pointing. “All three patrols were lost east of here. We’ve never had any reports of trouble there in the past few seasons, so what happened to them is a mystery. There’s really nothing there except for the plains and an old graveyard. Of course, it _is_ at the edge of the Mere, so anything could have wandered in from the swamp.”

Connor’s grip tightened on the map at his words, and even Vhaera started growling lowly at the one word: _graveyard._ He already knew immediately what the problem was going to be, and it wasn’t creatures coming in from the Mere. “Anything else we should know?” he finally managed to say.

Vallis gave him an odd look, but didn’t comment. “Nothing of note. As I said, we’ve never had any trouble from the east before. Now, you’d best be going. I have more important matters to attend to.”

Connor nodded. “We’ll begin our search immediately.” As soon as Vallis walked off to attend other duties, he cursed violently under his breath. “Not before I whip up a few potions we’ll need.”

“That sure of what we’ll be walking into, lad?” Khelgar asked as they walked into a more open area of the Fort.  
“Fairly certain,” Connor nodded. “We’re not scouting the Mere. We’re heading straight for that graveyard.”

“What could the dead do to us?” Neeshka scratched her head with the tip of her tail.

“Walk,” Connor deadpanned. “And possibly kill _us_ in return.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet Neeshka, a tiefling rogue (thief) who, while she has sticky fingers, is very loyal if you treat her kindly. She's always good for a laugh, too, especially with Khelgar.
> 
> Next up, the investigation begins, and Connor learns he _really_ hates graveyards.


	7. VI ~ Connor IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A druid, a warlock, a dwarf, a tiefling, and a boar find the graveyard, and the druid isn't happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Neverwinter Nights 2 Original Campaign, its recognizable storyline, dialogue or characters. It is owned by Obsidian Entertainment, Atari, and its associates.

There were times Connor relished in being right, and there were times Connor felt like banging his head against the nearest wall because he despised being right.

This was one of the times he wished there was a convenient wall to bash his head against. A tree would have been perfect if they hadn’t been trying to avoid making noises.

The view of the sky had been obscured by the trees long ago. Unfortunately, their time in the grasslands had not lasted longer than a few hours. By the time twilight had fallen, they were back in the swampy covers of the Mere. “The graveyard is out _here?”_ Neeshka asked in disbelief, red eyes scanning the paths Connor led them on.

“It’s from the last Shadow War,” Connor nodded absently, checking their location.

Khelgar snorted. “Gives the name Mere of _Dead Men_ a literal meaning, eh?”

Savannah stopped in her tracks, eyes wide. “A little _too_ literally, I think.”

Connor looked over the top of his map, and he instantly cursed and dropped into a crouch behind the stone wall of one of the upcoming graveyard’s crypts. He felt the others join him, and Neeshka gulped. “Dead Men _indeed.”_

Connor peered around the edge of the crypt and through the iron fence surrounding the graveyard. He could hear the clicks and clacking of bone against bone, and the low moans that no living creature made. “Undead,” he said in disgust. “I _hate_ undead.”

Khelgar patted his shoulder in what normally would have been a comforting manner. To Connor, however, this was a place where he just couldn’t be comforted. Druids thrived in the natural world, and undead creatures such as zombies, skeletons, vampires, and the like were _not_ part of the natural world. Everything in Connor screamed for him to get out and avoid the dead at all costs.

However, that would mean they were abandoning Tann, if he was still alive, and leaving him at the mercy of the dead. Connor gritted his teeth, then slung his pack off his shoulder to rummage through it. “Khelgar, Neeshka, your eyes work better in the dark than mine and Savannah’s do,” he said, finding two flasks of glowing red liquid. “Toss these in there. Try and aim for the zombies, if you can.”

“Sure,” Neeshka took a deep breath, gingerly taking the flask of alchemist’s fire from the druid. “I can do that.”

“All right, lad,” Khelgar nodded, taking his own flask. “Just say the word.”

Connor nodded, drawing his scimitar slowly and seeing Savannah remove the morningstar she had bought from the Fort’s weaponsmith from its holster. “Go,” he ordered.

Neeshka darted to the opposite side of the iron gate while Khelgar jumped out from behind Connor. They threw with all their might, and when the flasks hit the ground, explosions of fire ripped through the graveyard. Connor swore he saw a skeleton rib fly past him and into the swamp, but he ignored it as he chanted one of the spells he memorized just for their trip to the graveyard. Flames rushed up his scimitar blade, Savannah’s morningstar, Khelgar’s axe, and Neeshka’s daggers.

And the light of the flames illuminated their enemies, making Khelgar swear. “By Tyr’s right buttock!”

Skeletons wielding axes, halberds, and the like rushed through the graves, blue flames dancing in their eye sockets. One bash of Savannah’s morningstar to one’s head sent the skull rolling along the ground, but she had to drop to the ground to avoid a headless skeleton swinging maniacally. Khelgar’s axe buried in the ribcage solved that problem for her, and the dwarf was off and charging again.

Connor’s concern wasn’t the skeletons. It was the horde of zombies, their flesh rotten and clothes in rags, that dragged their feet towards him and Neeshka, some dragging flails and morningstars along the ground. Neeshka gulped, but she sprinted forward, a reddish-brown blur that was hard to see in the dark. Connor occasionally saw a zombie fall with a fiery stab in the heart, and with a few jabs of his scimitar, some combusted from the inside out.

By the time they were finished with the undead, skeletons and charred zombie body parts littered the graveyard. “This is the very likes of a horror story,” Khelgar looked around with wide eyes.

“I _really_ understand why you hate undead, Connor,” Savannah swallowed hard, cautiously toeing a skeleton skull. “They just keep coming if you don’t hit them correctly.”

“I know,” Connor shuddered. “I’m glad I made myself memorize those healing spells on our way here.” He frowned, looking between the two crypts. “Big one or small one?”

“I’ll check the small one,” Neeshka volunteered, scampering over the bodies to reach the building.

“You seem to have healing spells memorized well, lad,” Khelgar frowned, considering Connor as Neeshka pulled something wrapped in cloth from one of her pouches.

“There are spells to heal wounds, but that’s different from spells to heal poisons or sicknesses,” Connor shook his head, distracted by what Neeshka was doing. “I know minor spells to heal wounds, but I had to learn ones to cure . . . diseases . . . are you picking the lock?” he abruptly asked.

Neeshka’s head shot up from her work, and she blushed. “Well, I said I wasn’t with the bandits the Greycloaks were discussing,” she said. “And I’m technically _not_ a bandit. I don’t _try_ to stand out. Besides, don’t you want to know if this is where the missing commander is located?”

Khelgar snorted. “I told you she was trouble, lad.”

“Actually, you told him she would stab us in the back and run off with our purses,” Savannah corrected.

“Yeah!” Neeshka nodded furiously. “And I haven’t done that, have I?”

Connor sighed. “Considering I don’t want to bash any of these doors in and destroy the crypts more than we have to – and we probably _will_ have to, if the undead out here is anything to go by – go ahead, Neeshka.”

Neeshka beamed and continued to pick the lock, peering at it. “Almost . . . done!” She put her picks back in her pouch, then carefully opened the door. She looked inside, then turned back to Connor. “I’ll check inside, see if there’s anyone in there.”

“Be careful,” Connor nodded.

Neeshka nodded and slipped through the door. “I suppose you’re right,” Khelgar frowned. “I don’t want to destroy these crypts more than we have to. If the tiefling can get us in and out that easily – ”

There was a squeal from inside the crypt, and Neeshka came tearing out of it, clutching at her arm, which had angry red boils bubbling on her skin where her armor had been torn. Before she had darted behind Connor, Savannah was already chanting an invocation, and when two zombies came out the door, she blasted both with eldritch energy. Khelgar slammed the door without further ado.

“That’s all of them,” Neeshka stammered, gritting her teeth as she looked at her arm in horror, Connor moving forward to inspect the damage done. “There were only a few skeletons. I didn’t see the zombies until – ”

“It’s OK,” Connor assured her, taking a deep breath and clearly saying the words he had memorized their entire way to the graveyard. _“Una partu.”_

Golden green light glowed around Connor’s hands, and as he swept them over Neeshka’s arm, the boils faded away, leaving unmarked skin. “Wow,” Neeshka grinned. “I’m glad I’m traveling with a healer!”

Connor shook his head, getting the weariness out of him. “If you’re impressed by that, you should have seen what our priest back in West Harbor could do with healing cantrips,” he said dryly, walking gingerly towards the other crypt. “I’m not bad at them, but I’m definitely not a cleric.”

“Are you all right, Connor?” Savannah frowned, watching how he walked.

“I’ll be fine,” Connor nodded, patting Vhaera on her head when she nudged his leg worriedly. “A new spell cast for the first time takes some energy out of me than one I cast often.”

One small push from him, and the final crypt creaked open without resistance. Connor immediately tensed, going for his scimitar hilt. “Well, I hope you’ve cast that fire spell often,” Khelgar eyed the crypt in distaste. “I think we’ll need it.”

“Right,” Connor took a deep breath. “Fight the undead, find the commander, get back to the Fort. Let’s go.”

* * *

Connor was going to have nightmares because of the undead they had to work their way through.

He was thanking every god and their mothers that he and Savannah had accepted Khelgar’s offer to travel with them, because the dwarf carved through zombies and skeletons alike. With Connor’s fire enchantment on his axe, the dwarf made it through his enemies without even a dent in his plate armor. Savannah alternated between using her morningstar and conjuring her eldritch magic; she wasn’t as effective as Khelgar, but she held her own easily. Connor and Neeshka watched each other’s backs with the zombies while Vhaera plowed through the skeletons.

“Heh,” Khelgar panted as they trudged towards the back of the crypt, though he still looked excited. “Yeh really _do_ have more enemies than friends, lad.”

“It appears so,” Connor nodded, a slight limp in his step as they cautiously made their way through the dark, Savannah with a torch to light up the darkness. “Except I don’t plan on having _this_ many enemies.”

“Really, how did we go from the Mossfelds as bullies to undead wanting to tear us apart?” Savannah wondered.

Connor snorted. “A chunk of silver.”

 _“What?”_ Neeshka spun on her heels, looking at Connor with wide eyes. “A chunk of _silver?”_

“I know,” Connor nodded. “It’s why we’re heading to Neverwinter.”

“Huh,” Neeshka tilted her head. “Maybe it’s enchanted in some way?”

“I hope to find out,” Connor said.

“Connor!” Savannah called from ahead. Connor straightened, and she pointed her torch at a closed door. “Something in here doesn’t . . . feel right.”

Connor tensed and carefully drew his scimitar from its sheath. “We’re in a tomb of walking dead, Savannah. Be slightly more specific.”

Savannah swallowed. “You know how I could sense how different Brother Merring’s and Tarmas’s magics are?” When Connor nodded, she eyed the door. “This feels like Brother Merring’s . . . but darker. _Much_ darker.”

Connor took a deep breath. “Necromancer?”

Khelgar inhaled sharply, and Savannah nodded miserably. “It has to be.”

“OK,” Connor turned around. “Neeshka, if you find a way to kill this person, you take it.”

The bubbly tiefling nodded, red eyes glinting. “You got it.”

Connor took a deep breath. “Open it.”

* * *

The dark chuckle of the necromancer robed in black made Fort Locke Commander Tann weakly raise his head from where he was chained to the wall. “Fresh materials to work with. _Excellent.”_

Tann could only watch as the remains of men were given life as undead as the necromancer’s evil chanting echoed in the stone room. When Tann looked back to the entrance of the room, he found a shield dwarf with a flaming axe and a black-haired young woman with a morningstar staring down the zombie warriors.

“Attack, my children,” the necromancer crooned in a slippery voice that sent shudders down Tann’s spine. “Let us add their corpses to our army.”

The shadows rippled nearby, then a red-haired tiefling leapt from behind the necromancer, two daggers a blur of motion. The necromancer just barely raised his shield in time to avoid being stabbed in the back. The dwarf and the woman charged, the dwarf yelling a battlecry that sounded like it included his clan’s name.

And they revealed the black-haired man behind them, who was chanting in a clear voice and threw his hand out. His spell landed among the zombies, and wicked spikes grew through the stones, impaling the zombies in their feet. They hissed and struggled to move; they were fodder for the dwarf to cut through.

The tiefling was dancing away from the priest’s mace, light on her feet. Abruptly, her tail whipped up and smacked the priest in the side of the head. Tann couldn’t see the priest’s face because of his mask, but he could hear the roar of fury. The black-haired man sprinted forward, a squealing boar on his heels, and the tiefling ducked away to tackle a zombie that would have clawed into the woman’s side. The necromancer spat out a spell quicker than Tann thought possible, and the man had to avoid the shadow that shimmered into existence. The dwarf snarled and lashed out with his axe, dissolving the shadow into nothing.

That left the man to duel with the priest, scimitar against mace as the last zombie fell to the woman’s dark violet magic. The priest aimed his mace for the man’s side, and the boar reared up, taking the hit meant for the man. The boar crumbled to the ground with a squeal of pain, and with an enraged snarl, the man drove his scimitar past the priest’s shield and into his heart. The priest fell dead on the ground, and the man looked down to check the priest was dead before he crouched next to the boar. The boar made a half-hearted snarl when the man found her ribs, and he winced before looking through his pouches. He handed a blue vial to the woman – they looked similar, now that Tann thought about it – and murmured some instructions before he turned to Tann.

* * *

Connor’s first impression of the garrison commander was that even while injured, he held himself with authority, reminding him of Georg. When he reached the commander, he fished through his pouches for another healing potion. “Neeshka?” he called. “Unlock the commander’s chains, please.”

The tiefling bounded over and went to work. When one wrist was free, Connor pulled the stopper from the potion and handed it to the commander. “Thank you,” Tann rasped as he downed the blue liquid. “It’s a miracle you came along. I was certain I’d be joining the corpses down here soon enough.”

“Commander Tann of Fort Locke, I presume?” Connor asked, nodding to thank Neeshka when she unlocked the other cuff.

She nodded back and went back to inspecting the room. “Yes, yes I am,” Tann confirmed, slowly standing up. “And you?”

“Connor Johnson,” he answered, shaking the commander’s hand. “This is my sister Savannah and our friends, Khelgar Ironfist and Neeshka.”

Savannah smiled pleasantly and Khelgar nodded politely. Neeshka, who was picking the lock on a chest by the altar, gave a quick wave before returning to her picking. “Thank you for finding me,” Tann nodded to each of them. “Did Lieutenant Vallis send you to find me?” He snorted. “He must be gloating right now. He warned me not to send another patrol until we received reinforcements from Neverwinter.”

“Lieutenant Vallis sent us to find out what happened to the patrols,” Connor answered, smiling in relief as Vhaera stood up from where she had fallen to the ground. He was thankful he had found a recipe for healing potions that worked for animal companions.

“It’s a good thing he did,” Tann rubbed his wrists, looking down at the priest’s body. “I have much to report, and the men need to be prepared to deal with this new threat.”

Savannah, who had joined Neeshka to look in the chest, looked up sharply. “This threat is bigger than just him?” she asked.

“Perhaps,” Tann nodded. “The necromancer interrogated me thoroughly on the strengths and weaknesses of Fort Locke. Troop numbers, defense strategies, the experience of the men . . . he must have been planning to attack using the undead he was raising.”

“Did he have enough to defeat the garrison?” Connor wondered.

“You’ve fought through most of his forces to reach me,” Tann shook his head. “You know as well as I do he didn’t have the numbers to bring down the garrison.”

Khelgar snorted. “Well, depending on how well yer men have trained . . . ”

Tann conceded with a nod. “Perhaps if he had additional forces coming from the north . . . say, from Highcliff . . . then he may have had a chance of success.” He sighed. “Even then, he would have needed to surprise the fort, which would be unlikely. New of Highcliff falling would spread like wildfire. Fort Locke would be ready.”

“Was the necromancer working alone?” Connor asked.

“I don’t think so, Connor,” Savannah shook her head. When he looked over, he found Savannah reading a scrap of parchment while Neeshka examined the potions locked away. “Look at this.”

Connor took the piece of parchment, frowning at the words he could read. “’The site has been lightly traveled for many decades, visited regularly only by patrols from a nearby garrison,’” he read aloud. “’Enough materials exist for a small army. It will serve our purposes for now.’”

“He also spoke with a . . . ” Tann frowned thoughtfully. “Well, a _shade_ of some sort from time to time. I heard a name: Black Garius. I gather he’s the one giving the orders.”

Khelgar shook his head. “Small army, indeed. We could have been wiped out at any time.”

“But you weren’t,” Tann said. “And the Fort has many more men than four common adventurers.” He paused. “No offense meant to my rescuers.”

“None taken,” Connor assured the commander. “Speaking of the Fort, are you able to travel?”

Tann experimentally twisted his arms and rolled out his feet, then nodded. “That Shadow Priest tossed me around for a bit, but it wasn’t anything serious that your potion couldn’t heal. I can travel.” He looked behind the altar, then picked up a longsword that he gave a few experimental swings. “I was separated from my men as we fought our way in,” he informed Connor. “Some may still be down here. If they’re still alive, I won’t feel right leaving here. But, I also need to return to the Fort.”

“We’ll find them,” Connor told him. “It looked like there was a back entrance to the crypt that we need to fight through, anyway.”

Tann nodded in agreement. “I had seven men in my patrol. Four were ones you just fought.” Khelgar abruptly grimaced and murmured an apology to the dead zombie closest to him. “I hope the three that aren’t here are still alive.”

* * *

Only one of Commander Tann’s three remaining men was dead, Lurue bless him. Bruneil and Blaine vocalized their relief about finding their missing commander, with Tann directing the thanks towards Connor and his band. Not used to so much thanks sent his way by people he didn’t know, Connor brushed it off before they traipsed back through the Mere towards the Fort.

“Let’s not have to deal with undead for a _long_ time, alright?” Neeshka spoke up. “Being infected by zombies is something I can live the rest of my life without.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m with the tiefling on this one,” Khelgar nodded, examining the blade of his axe. “Yeh didn’t look too ready for that, lad.”

“I’m a druid, Khelgar,” Connor shook his head. “Undead is as unnatural as they come.”

“I wondered if you were a druid or a ranger,” Tann remarked as he walked in step with Connor. “Your companion was very brave to take that hit meant for you.”

“Vhaera has saved my skin many times lately,” Connor smiled down at the boar faithfully trotting on his other side. “I’m blessed she was sent to me.”

“Your companions are sent to you?” Tann asked in surprise. “Forgive me, I’ve rarely met a druid.”

“I’m uncertain how they work for others,” Connor admitted. “But yes, Vhaera was sent to me by Lurue when I took her for my deity of choice five years ago. I raised her, and she accompanied me everywhere.” He patted Vhaera’s head. “I can’t imagine my path as a druid without her.”

Tann smiled. “I’m pleased you have such a faithful companion.”

“As am I.”

“Connor?” Neeshka called. “We have a welcoming committee!”

Connor and Tann looked up in time to see Vallis stride down the trail, four Greycloaks behind him. “Commander,” Vallis greeted. “It’s good to see you alive and well. I’m sure you’ll have a report ready once you return to the Fort.”

“That I will, Lieutenant,” Tann nodded. “We have much to discuss. Assemble the officers. I’ll be with them shortly.”

Vallis raised an eyebrow. “You will report directly to me, and I shall brief the officers. I’m relieving you of duty.”

Connor and Savanah exchanged startled looks, and Tann scowled. “What’s gotten into you? I’ve given you your orders. Now carry them out.”

 _“I_ am the commander of Fort Locke now, Tann,” Vallis countered. “You will brief me, then return to your quarters, or I will have you arrested for insubordination.”

Khelgar growled, hand on his axe. “The Commander has given you your orders, Vallis,” Connor stepped forward, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It is your duty to carry them out.”

Vallis scoffed. “I am not about to watch the garrison fall apart again because of you, Tann. The loss of three patrols was a direct result of your failure to prepare the men properly. You are unfit for command.”

“With all due respect, Lieutenant,” Blaine said stiffly, “my fallen soldiers were as prepared as they could possibly be with what they faced. If you have an issue, I believe the proper procedures are to bring it up with the Commander’s superiors. This is not the way to handle it.”

Vallis scowled. “You are out of line, soldier.” He turned to the Greycloaks with him. “Men! Arrest them! If they resist, use any force necessary to subdue him.”

Blaine and Bruneil went for their swords as the other Greycloaks did the same, but Connor cleared his throat. “I think the soldiers know who their commander is,” he eyed the Greycloaks. _“Don’t_ you, men?”

Three fidgeted, while one gulped. “Uh . . . ”

Khelgar and Neeshka sniggered while Savannah outright laughed. Tann grinned as he stepped forward. “You’ve much to learn about command, Vallis,” he lectured. “Training the men is one thing. _Leading_ them is something entirely different.” He gestured to Bruneil and Blaine. “Men, arrest the Lieutenant. We’ll deal with this back at the Fort.”

Vallis struggled as Bruneil and Blaine grasped his arms. “You would _dare_ arrest the son of House Anton?! You’ll regret this, Tann! This isn’t over between us!”

“Bah,” Khelgar wrinkled his nose. _“Nobles.”_

“A noble who would post a bounty on anyone his men deemed ‘bandits,’” Neeshka added.

Tann scowled. “If that is indeed the case, then I assure you, the Lieutenant will pay. And threatening a superior officer . . . well, I think you know how well Neverwinter looks upon traitors since the Luskan War, don’t you?” Vallis balked, and Tann nodded in satisfaction as he was dragged away. “In the meantime, I’d best get back to the Fort,” the commander told Connor, holding out his hand. “Thank you again for what you’ve done for me.”

“You’re welcome, Commander,” Connor nodded, shaking his hand. “I hope you won’t mind if we rest for a few days before heading on to Highcliff?”

“Absolutely not,” Tann immediately shook his head. “Stay as long as you require to regain your strength.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

“As long as it’s a more pleasant stay than a simple visit was,” Khelgar muttered under his breath.

Neeshka giggled. “We saved the commander’s life, Khelgar. I think it’s going to be a _lot_ more pleasant than when Vallis was in charge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've learned this area of the game is one of the hardest early on, depending on who you play as the main character. Of course, it got much easier when I learned I never gave Neeshka the right weapons to kill zombies.
> 
> Next up, it's back to the Fort, and it turns out the jobs just keep coming for the adventurers.


	8. VII ~ Connor V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A druid, a warlock, a dwarf, a tiefling, and a boar return to the Fort and learn there's still more work to be done before they depart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Neverwinter Nights 2 Original Campaign, its recognizable storyline, dialogue or characters. It is owned by Obsidian Entertainment, Atari, and its associates.

The cheer that erupted in the garrison when the group arrived with Tann proved just who the Greycloaks wanted in command. Cormick was the first to the gates, grinning ear to ear. “Welcome back, Commander!” he greeted, extending a hand.

“It’s good to be back, Marshal,” Tann shook his hand gratefully. “If it wasn’t for these four, I would be a zombie.”

“A zombie?” Cormick repeated, raising an eyebrow at Connor.

“Unfortunately,” Connor nodded, taking the piece of parchment from the necromancer’s chest from his belt, holding it out to Cormick. “This was written by the necromancer in the main crypt.”

Cormick unfolded the parchment as Tann walked over to an assembled group of Greycloaks, Vallis still thrashing in the grips of Blaine and Bruneil. He read the necromancer’s eyes with narrowed eyes, then shook his head. “I’m glad you went looking, Connor,” he said. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to bring this with me when I return to Neverwinter. My superiors back in the city might want to investigate this further.”

“Absolutely,” Connor nodded.

Cormick nodded and folded the parchment up again, tucking it into his belt as Tann walked over. His brow was furrowed, but his tone was positive. “I’ve spoken to the garrison’s sergeants. The patrols along the roads will resume right away, and I will ensure the first ones will reach West Harbor.”

Cormick sighed in relief. “Thank you, Commander.”

“You’re welcome, Marshal,” Tann nodded. “I can’t believe Vallis allowed security to deteriorate like this.”

Khelgar snorted. “I wouldn’t trust him with security even if he bribed me with gold.”

“How much gold?” Neeshka asked curiously.

Khelgar glared at her. _“Any_ amount, especially if it would compromise my clan!”

“Well said, master dwarf,” Tann nodded. “Connor, if you require any weapons restocked, I will speak to Jacoby. I do not have much regarding a reward, but I can help you with this.”

“I’ll restock my shuriken,” Savannah nodded.

“Done,” Tann told her.

Connor looked past Tann to see the sergeants around a map, talking amongst themselves. “Those appear to be very intense discussions regarding patrols.”

“Only two of those sergeants are in charge of assigning patrols,” Tann shook his head. “The rest are attempting to determine where these bandits are attacking from.”

“I talked to many of the refugees here,” Cormick nodded. “The bandits seem to be united under one leader. He’s offered to release their loved ones for a price.”

Savannah grimaced. “A ransom?”

Connor shook his head. “I’ll never understand bandits.”

Khelgar snorted. “There’s a lot I’ll never understand in this world, lad.”

Neeshka, however, was chewing her lip thoughtfully. “Can I see the map you have?” she asked.

Tann blinked in surprise, but nodded and gestured towards his sergeants. “Please.”

Neeshka followed him over to the map, the four others following her. “What is it, Neeshka?” Connor joined her.

“I think I know where these bandits might be,” she answered, tracing along the map, her tongue poking out slightly as she concentrated. “I passed an encampment on the way here, but I didn’t stop to check it out . . . aha!” She pointed triumphantly at a point just north of the fort. “I saw a large camp right here.”

Connor leaned in, tilting his head. “How large?”

“Very,” Neeshka answered. “I’d say it’s only slightly smaller than the Fort.”

Tann whistled lowly. “That would make it very difficult to mount an attack, especially since we need to start our patrols again.”

“Commander, I am willing to take my men and investigate this camp,” one of the sergeants, a man with sun-bleached blond hair and bangs tied back, volunteered.

“I appreciate it, Dobbson,” Tann nodded. “But I am still unsure about risking a patrol without knowing the full strength of this camp.”

Connor, meanwhile, had folded his arms and was considering the map intensely. “Neeshka, how far away do you think this camp is?” he asked.

Neeshka tilted her head, thinking. “I didn’t keep an exact record of the time,” she said after a few seconds. “Four hours, at most?”

Connor sighed, his moral compass winning. “Anyone opposed?” he asked dryly.

Khelgar gave a full belly laugh. “Lad, we fought our way through crypts of zombies and skeletons. Bandits? Ha!”

“You know that means you’ve volunteered to be the one taking all the heavy hits?” Savannah quipped.

Khelgar grinned. “I’m an Ironfist, lass. That’s what we train for!”

Connor shook his head, grinning. That was confirmation from two of their group. “Neeshka?”

“Why not?” she nodded.

Connor smirked, looking up at the shocked Greycloaks. “How about we help you out one more time?”

Tann appeared shocked speechless. Cormick, on the other hand, laughed loudly. “I’d accept his help if I were you, Commander. We Harbormen are a stubborn lot. When we commit to something, we commit.”

Tann jolted out of his stupor, shaking his head. “I leave this up to you, Dobbson.”

Dobbson examined the four adventurers, then extended his hand. “It would be an honor, my lord.”

“Please, just Connor,” the druid grimaced, though he shook the sergeant’s hand. “I’m just a Harborman passing through.”

“A Harborman who is doing far more for us than that poor excuse of a Lieutenant ever did,” Dobbson shook his head. “Shall we?”

* * *

Connor was relieved when he learned three of Dobbson’s squad of five had training with bows. If Neeshka’s information remained accurate, multiple bandits in the camp she passed were skilled in archery, and the archers they brought would be crucial to ending those bandits. To his surprise, Blaine and Bruneil volunteered to make up the rest of the squad, joining Dobbson as front-line fighters.

The sky was painted in colors from the setting sun when Neeshka finally led them to a massive camp just by the edge of the forest. Connor stroked the top of Vhaera’s head, and the boar shuffled off to the gates. “Hmph,” Khelgar squinted. “Looks like they took inspiration from the Fort.”

“Our gates keep the fort safe, though we have rarely been attacked,” Dobbson said. “I wonder how many bandits there are.”

“How many bandits are in the camp and how many are in their main base,” Connor added.

Dobbson grimaced. “I’m glad you volunteered to come along.”

“Bandits make good practice,” Khelgar grinned.

Neeshka snorted. “Of course that’s what you focus on.”

Connor crouched down as Vhaera trotted back. “What are we facing, girl?” he asked.

 _“I counted twenty outside, over ten are archers,”_ she answered. _“I could not see inside the house.”_

Connor nodded, rubbing her head. “There’s twenty outside, but she couldn’t see in the house. Over half are archers.”

Dobbson nodded, tapping his fingers on the pommel of his sword. “Let’s move closer.”

Neeshka padded down the path, taking one of her daggers from her bandolier. Savannah ran her fingers along one of the blades of her shuriken, following closely on Neeshka’s heels; that meant she almost smacked into the tiefling’s back when she stopped in her tracks. “Cyric’s blood,” she seethed, taking a step back.

“Sorry,” Neeshka winced. “But they have a cleric at the front gate.”

“Do they?” Khelgar peered around Savannah’s legs.

Connor frowned, joining Neeshka to look at the three guards at the gate. Two bandits were wearing brown leather armor, but the sullen bandit at their head wore more solid scale armor. He narrowed his eyes, trying to see through the dark, and he saw the familiar holy symbol engraved into the bandit’s shoulder pauldrons. “Neeshka’s right,” she said. “That’s the dogma of Mask.”

“Master of thieves,” Savannah grumbled. “Of course.”

“Right,” Connor rolled out the kinks in his neck, drawing his scimitar. “Savannah, if you can bring him down, do it. Khelgar, if she can’t, take him down.”

Khelgar nodded eagerly. “You got it, lad.”

A chuckle came from behind them, and Connor winced. “Apologies, Sergeant.”

“Not necessary, Connor,” Dobbson walked up to him, his longsword drawn. “You sound as if you know what you are doing.”

Connor shrugged. “I did well in my village’s militia.”

“That’s an understatement,” Savannah smirked.

Dobbson simply turned to his archers. “Aim for the cleric, then the archers,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” they nodded.

Connor turned back to the three guards, then took a deep breath. He whispered a few words, then placed his hand on the ground. The trees just behind them rustled, and the Greycloaks barely held in exclamations of surprise as the ground raised slightly, occasional twigs popping out. The bandits didn’t hold back their exclamations when roots sprang from the ground and entwined around their ankles. Khelgar bellowed a war cry and sprinted forward, brandishing his axe. The cleric started a guttural chant, a spell Connor remembered as one of the few offensive cantrips Brother Merring had used. “Savannah, take him out!” he barked, running after Khelgar, hearing more shouts inside the camp.

Just before the cleric finished his spell, Neeshka’s dagger spun past his ear and sank into the cleric’s neck. The cleric toppled with a gurgle, and Neeshka overtook Connor, yanking her dagger back without a care for the spray of blood she nimbly dodged. Khelgar tugged his axe out of another bandit’s chest, and as Neeshka sidestepped the other bandit and stabbed him in the back, Vhaera charged into the main camp with a squeal of fury.

The first two arrows she batted out of the way with her snout, and Connor cast a quick cantrip that made two of the archers drop their bows, frost creeping up their fingers. His scimitar cut both down, and Dobbson led Blaine and Bruneil into the camp, Khelgar and Neeshka behind them. Connor lost track of whose arrows whistled past his ears and whose steel clashed against whose. All he focused on was cutting down the bandits who scrambled out of their tents and tried to bring their weapons up against him and his raging boar.

One pen held pigs and cows, which Connor had to urge Vhaera away from. As Dobbson swiftly disarmed one of the bandits and Savannah buried a throwing star in his back, he and Neeshka entered the other pen, where half a dozen men and women looked up at them in surprise. “The refugees,” Neeshka realized.

A man with greying hair and a balding hairline stood, his tunic tattered, but he had a strength to him that signified he was the leader. “I don’t know how you managed to slip through the camp,” he said hoarsely. “But we’d best be getting out of here.”

“We need to hurry,” Connor beckoned.

A shout came from towards the house, and Blaine cursed. “Hurry, Connor!” he shouted.

“Quickly!” Savannah yelled.

The refugees ran out of the pen, and Connor saw half a dozen archers pour from the house, arrows already nocked in their bows. He could see Dobbson’s archers start to turn and aim, but the bandits would get their shots off first. He took a deep breath, then turned to Neeshka. “Keep going,” he ordered.

Neeshka didn’t argue, shepherding the refugees towards the gates of the camp. Connor looked around to ensure only the bandits were in range, and he raised one hand to the sky. _“Cleya novitus!”_ he evoked.

His scimitar sparked, and just as the first bandit prepared to fire her arrow, thunder rumbled in the sky. Even the Greycloaks looked up in surprise to see how the weather turned, but dark clouds only circled above Connor. The bandits faltered, and Connor pointed towards them. Lightning spat from the clouds, and the Greycloaks watched in shock as, while two bandits were able to duck away, four were struck by the bolts, their screams ringing in the night. Connor’s scimitar put them out of their misery, and the Greycloak archers shot the two who watched their comrades be electrified.

Connor panted, leaning on his scimitar as Savannah ran to him. “That was incredible!” she grinned widely, taking his other arm around putting it around her shoulder.

“I’m glad I could cast it,” Connor admitted, shifting his weight onto his twin.

“Lad!” Khelgar called from the gates. “Got any healing potions?”

Connor shook his head fondly. “Let’s go.”

Blaine was wrapping a makeshift tourniquet around a blonde woman’s forearm, a telltale arrow nick bleeding. Connor opened his pack and shifted through the corked vials inside, removing a thin, tube-shaped vial of blue potion, which he uncorked and handed over. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“I can’t believe we made it out in one piece,” the refugee leader marveled as the Greycloaks joined them. “You were _amazing_ in there!”

“Thanks,” Khelgar smirked. “But just a typical day’s work, really.”

Neeshka’s jaw dropped, and the refugee leader cleared his throat. “Uh . . . our thanks to you, friend . . . and to your dwarven friend, too.”

“We’ll escort them to the Fort,” Dobbson said, eyeing the house inside the camp. “Do you think your crew can handle the rest?”

“If not, thank you for getting them to safety,” Connor held out his hand.

“Thank _you_ for volunteering,” Dobbson shook his hand. “We’ll see you back at the Fort.”

Neeshka waited a total of seven seconds – long enough for the group to be out of earshot – before she exploded. “Did you see the way he ignored me?” she protested. “He thanked you, but it was like I didn’t even exist! I helped, too, you know!”

“A _true_ hero doesn’t need the thanks of others,” Khelgar huffed.

Neeshka glared, her tail lashing angrily. “Oh, really? You were puffed up so much when they thanked you, I almost thought there were two of you!”

Connor smirked, putting a hand on Neeshka’s shoulder. “You have _my_ thanks for helping.”

Neeshka’s cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head bashfully. “Well . . . thanks,” she mumbled. “I mean, you did good in there. Didn’t think we’d actually get through that in one piece. But it was kind of nice working as a team without having to backstab anyone at the end, I can tell you that!”

* * *

Connor frowned as he and Khelgar led the way at an achingly slow pace through the house inside the camp. “Shouldn’t we have been attacked by now?” Savannah whispered, peering into one of the rooms.

“Not if we’re walking right into a trap,” Neeshka said through the dagger in her teeth as her nimble fingers worked on a bundle of wires running along the ground. “Which the stupid dwarf almost did.”

“Takes a thief to spot a thief’s work, demon,” Khelgar glared angrily.

“Shh!” Savannah hit the top of Khelgar’s bald head.

“Ow!”

When Neeshka dumped the trap into a corner, Connor continued down the hall until he found the lone, closed door. He paused, looking at Neeshka as she examined the door and the floor around it. After a few seconds, she shook her head in confusion. Connor cautiously reached for the handle –

“So, you finally made it here,” a gruff voice said from inside the room, making Neeshka jump back into Khelgar, almost knocking the dwarf over. “Any reason you decided to come tearing through my camp?”

Connor took a deep breath, opening the door and stepping inside. The grey-haired chief in worn, cared-for armor with a sheathed longsword stepped to the front of the room, two archers with arrows in their bows, a robed man with a scroll in his hands, ready to cast at the wrong move, and four bandits with their hands on the pommels of their short swords. “We came for the prisoners in your camp,” he answered.

 _“And_ to put a stop to your raids,” Savannah added.

The chief snorted. “You’ve done that. Most of my men are dead. So if you’re finished, you can just leave the way you came.”

Khelgar leaned on his axe, eyes narrowed. “And how do we know you won’t get a new band and start raiding again?” he asked suspiciously.

“You don’t,” the chief admitted. “I could try to convince you I’ve learned my lesson, but I don’t think you’d listen. Besides, it doesn’t matter. Even if we packed up what remains of this camp, another group would just take our place anyway. You see, in case you haven’t noticed, the roads aren’t exactly crawling with troops these days. It’s every man for himself.”

Connor tilted his head thoughtfully. By the chief’s words, his men clearly knew the roads around the Fort. And if Tann wanted more men on the patrols . . . ”Fort Locke is short of men,” he said. “I’m sure they’d pay well for new recruits to patrol the roads.”

Savannah gawked at him; the chief almost mirrored her expression. “Me?! Playing a _guard?”_ He barked in laughter. “The military couldn’t pay nearly as well as what I make from raids!”

Connor gestured to the seven bandits surrounding the chief. “Any man who can recruit and lead men deserves an officer’s rank,” he said. _“And_ pay.”

The chief curled his lips thoughtfully. “What are you _doing?”_ Neeshka hissed.

“Let him talk!” Savannah jabbed her elbow into the tiefling’s side.

“What makes you think they won’t just fit our necks for a noose?” the chief finally asked.

Connor smirked. “You might say . . . the commander owes us a favor. We can put in a good word.”

The chief pondered, looking around his men. “Honest work’ll take some getting used to,” he said. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Still, I _am_ getting tired of being on the run all the time and watching my back. As are my men, I’m sure.” There was some hesitancy, but the bandits nodded in agreement, and the chief turned back to Connor, nodding. “All right,” he agreed. “If you haven’t freed the prisoners up top already, I’ll let them go. Might warm up this commander of yours.”

Savannah’s sigh of relief was audible, though Connor’s was quieter as he nodded. “Thank you.”

The chief waved to the door. “Now, I think you know the way out, and I’ve got a lot of work to do before we present ourselves to the Fort Commander.” Connor nodded, Khelgar opening the door for the others. The door had barely closed, but the girls giggled when they clearly heard the chief mutter “I can’t believe I’m doing this” as it shut.

* * *

It spoke to the chief’s knowledge of the roads that when the group returned to the Fort, they could see the bandits milling about, their eyes suspicious of every Greycloak they saw. Cormick was speaking to the chief, a look of amusement on his face as the chief spoke lowly.

Tann watched them trek inside, raising an eyebrow expectantly. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?” he asked dryly.

“Whatever gave you that idea, Commander?” Connor asked innocently.

Neeshka giggled as Tann shook his head. “I take it I have you to thank for the rabble that I’ve got as new soldiers now.”

Connor shrugged, watching the chief nod and step away from Cormick. “How are they working out for you?”

“Surprising well,” Tann admitted. “They all know the basics about fighting already, though their styles are . . . questionable. Guess that comes from their previous line of work. To be honest, I thought I’d been gift wrapped a present from the Neverwinter Greycloaks. I was ready to hang them all until their leader mentioned you. I thought Dobbson’s eyes couldn’t get any wider.”

Connor grinned at that mental image, seeing Dobbson and his squad with the refugees on the far side of the Fort. “I’m glad you stayed your hand.”

“Me, too,” Tann nodded. “All of the sergeants are in agreement – their leader is going to turn out to be an excellent second in command. He’s got a good head on his shoulders, and my men immediately took to him. Some glamor comes with being a bandit chieftain, I suppose. How did you ever convince them to give up their raiding ways?”

“He’s a natural,” Savannah said loftily, making Neeshka guffaw.

Tann shook his head in amusement. “Whatever the reason, I thank you. Neverwinter’s been slow to respond to my request for reinforcements. I must’ve really gotten on someone’s nerves for the Vallis incident.” He rubbed his hands together, looking eager. “Anyhow, I’ve started to organize fresh patrols along the roads again. Your bandit friends know the area quite well, as you can imagine. They know of routes I don’t even know about, and I’ve been posted here for half my life. ‘Course, they had good reason to look for those routes before the patrols stopped.”

“How safe does that make the roads now?” Savannah asked curiously.

“Hardly,” Tann snorted. “Oh, they will be eventually, but it will take a while for us to re-establish our presence. You can’t let bandits run loose for this long and suddenly just shut them down.”

“No, I guess not,” Connor shook his head.

Cormick rejoined them, grinning. “Commander Tann is back, Vallis is taken care of, the patrols will be starting again soon, and the bandits are now Greycloaks. Not bad, Johnsons. Not bad at all.”

Connor grinned, accepting the other Harborman’s hug. “I’m just glad we could help.”

“And I’m happy I ran into both of you,” Cormick smiled, Savannah hugging him next. “You know, you never told me where the lot of you are heading.”

“Funny a Marshal of the Watch should be here,” Connor smirked. “We’re heading to Neverwinter.”

Cormick blinked, then laughed loudly. “My lucky day!”

 _“Our_ lucky day,” Tann smiled.

“Very true, Commander,” Cormick nodded. “You seem to have a knack for solving problems. Tell you what, Connor . . . stop by the city guard barracks if you find yourself looking for work in Neverwinter. The Watch could always use people like you.”

Connor nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And with that, I need to get a head start on the road,” Cormick said. “I’ve already spent too much time here.”

“Safe travels, Marshal,” Tann extended his hand.

Cormick shook the commander’s hand firmly. “Thank you, Commander. Best of luck with your new men.”

Tann smirked. “Best of luck with the city.” Cormick nodded and threw one lazy salute to Connor before turning and walking out of the gates. Tann sighed, turning to Connor and Savannah. “I cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done for the Fort. If there is anything you need, it’s yours.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Connor said gratefully. “Right now, I think we just need a place to spend the night, then we’ll be on our way.”

Tann smiled. “I think we can manage that.” He gestured to the barracks. “Please, this way.”

Not even Vallis’s corpse dangling from the gallows ruined the mood of the crew as they gathered their gear to find where they would stay the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Connor and company continue on the road, but it's far from a quiet journey.


	9. VIII ~ Connor VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A druid, a warlock, a dwarf, a tiefling, and a boar run into some trouble on the road, and the druid is very surprised by who comes to their rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Neverwinter Nights 2 Original Campaign, its recognizable storyline, dialogue or characters. It is owned by Obsidian Entertainment, Atari, and its associates.

“You know, I never asked,” Neeshka suddenly turned on her heel, walking backwards to watch her three traveling companions. “How did you meet Khelgar?”

“We were still in the swamps,” Connor answered, smiling as he watched Neeshka expertly avoid branches and stones. “Savannah and I planned to stop at the Weeping Willow Inn – ”

“And there was our favorite dwarf in the middle of a tavern brawl,” Savannah grinned.

Khelgar snorted. “Yeah, and then you had duergar and bladelings storming the inn for you.”

“Really?” Neeshka’s eyebrows shot up in interest. “Why are they after you?”

Savannah launched into the tale of the attack on West Harbor, and Connor smiled, letting his sister regal Neeshka about what occurred. He instead turned to Khelgar, who was watching the two girls with amusement. “What do you think, Khelgar?” he asked. “She isn’t too bad, is she?”

Khelgar hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose she has her uses.”

Connor rolled his eyes fondly. “What kind of people would we be if we had left her on the side of the road to be killed by those poor excuses of Greycloaks?”

Khelgar grumbled, and he must have said something, but Connor was distracted when he heard the faint sound of a twig snapping nearby. He turned around sharply, narrowing his eyes. He didn’t hear another snap, so he did turn back to Khelgar when the dwarf nudged him. “Lad?”

“I apologize, Khelgar,” he frowned, scratching his hand. “I thought I heard something.”

“Mmm,” Khelgar nodded. “Yeh can go mad if yeh stay on the road for too long, lad. How far until Highcliff?”

“Er,” Connor eyed his map. “By the looks of this, I would say two, no more than three – ” A rock tumbled out of the foliage, and Connor immediately reached for his scimitar, spinning around. This time, Vhaera rumbled suspiciously, pawing at the ground. “Weapons,” Connor warned.

Khelgar immediately hefted his axe into his hands, and as Neeshka drew her daggers, one of the very creatures Savannah had just been describing slunk into the middle of the path, two duergar flanking it. “No place to run this time, _Kalach-Cha,”_ the bladeling hissed; out of the corner of his eye, he saw Neeshka turn around to see three other duergar behind them. “That which you have stolen . . . hand it over, and we will let you live.”

Khelgar groaned. “This is getting tiresome, lad. What’s so important about that blasted thing that has them chasing us all over Faerûn?”

Connor’s free hand ghosted over the silk-wrapped bundle on his belt. “I wish I knew,” he said grimly, hand tightening on the pommel of his scimitar.

“Eh, take your time,” Khelgar eyed his grey-skinned counterparts. “At least the fights come to us.”

“Hand the shard over now, or we will take it from your corpse,” the bladeling ordered.

Connor’s hand tightened around the hilt of his scimitar. “And we were just getting to know each other.”

“Fool!” the bladeling spat, brandishing its longsword. “I shall enjoy killing you!”

Khelgar growled, ready to run forward, when Connor felt it: tremors under the ground, barely noticeable unless you trained to be one with the land. And when thick, thorny roots rose from the ground and tangled around the feet and up the legs of the duergar, Connor was the only one who didn’t sound surprised. “Connor?” Savannah asked nervously.

“It’s not me,” he shook his head.

“Fight, you pathetic thralls!” the bladeling roared. “Kill them all!” The two duergar with it tried to hack at the roots, but one shouted in pain when the thorns dug into his side. The other duergar looked at the bladeling doubtfully. “Why are you still looking at me?! _Attack!”_

“Well, if he’s asking for it!” Savannah launched a shuriken past Connor, and it whistled into the throat of the crossbow-wielding duergar behind the bladeling.

Neeshka leapt into action, launching over the duergar behind her, slitting his throat ear to ear as she did. Khelgar ran for the bladeling, his axe a blur of motion as he swung with so much power he shattered the bladeling’s sword. Connor’s scimitar met another duergar’s morningstar, but his head whipped around when he heard one duergar’s voice chant a favorite spell of Tarmas’s. His eyes widened when he saw the purple missiles fly towards him, and he was thrown away from the duergar, landing on the ground with an impact that made the wind get knocked out of him. “Connor!” Neeshka cried.

Vhaera squealed in anger as the duergar above Connor raised his morningstar, but a ferocious snarl above Connor made both look up. A blur of black and white jumped over Connor’s head and onto the duergar’s chest, and he thrashed about, trying to throw off the badger, of all creatures, that had its jaw locked around the duergar’s neck. Then the curved blade of a sickle sheared the grey dwarf almost in half, the badger scampering off to attack one of the duergar aiming his crossbow at Khelgar’s back.

Connor grimaced, slowly getting to one knee. Vhaera immediately trotted over to him, nosing him over and over. He checked himself over, noticing the burn marks on the chainlinks where the missiles hit him, and when he pressed a hand over the marks, he winced, feeling where he had been bruised. “I’m all right, girl,” he rubbed a hand over Vhaera’s head. “I’m all right.”

As Neeshka gutted the last of the duergar, a slender hand extended to Connor, and grateful for the assistance, he took the hand, surprised by the hidden strength the person who helped him up. With one last pat of Vhaera’s hand, he looked up at their savior. Emerald green met earth brown, and Connor realized the slender woman in front of him was a wood elf just like his foster father. She wasn’t armored; all she wore were soft robes of neutral browns, greens, and violets, the hem dirty and worn. Her sickle was held loosely in her free hand, enough that Connor could tell while she knew how to wield it, she would much rather not have a weapon in her hand. Her tangled hair was the color of mahogany trees . . . and around her neck was an amulet engraved with an oak leaf. That, added to the colors of her robes, the badger scurrying to her feet, and the spell she had cast, made him know _exactly_ who she was. The oak leaf was the symbol of Silvanus, the god worshiped by wood elves . . . and _druids._

“You walk a strange path for a Harborman,” the elf said quietly as the adventurers regrouped; she eyed one of the duergar in distaste. “Apparently, I’m not the only one who has a problem with it.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair and messing it up even further, though she didn’t appear to mind. “Forgive me, but I saw these . . . _things_ . . . about to attack you. I found I could not simply stand by while you were ambushed again.” _Again?_ Connor’s head shot up at the admission; judging by how Savannah’s eyes narrowed, she had caught it, too. “I’d like to help, if I could,” the elf continued. “I’ve been trying to follow you without interfering, but I don’t think you’ll reach your destination without someone who knows the land.”

Savannah eyed the elf up and down. “Who are you?” she asked suspiciously.

“Yeah, maybe you’d better tell us who you are,” Neeshka chimed in, red eyes narrowed. “And there’s others of us here, too, if you can take your eyes off our leader long enough to notice!”

The elf raised an eyebrow coolly, not rising to the tiefling’s challenge. “I am Elanee,” she answered. “And rather than shadow you, I would walk with you.”

Neeshka scoffed. “We’re doing fine, thanks. And maybe you’d like to explain why you were following us in the first place.”

“I’d like to know that as well,” Khelgar grunted. “Tree-worshippers tend to keep to themselves, and don’t pay much mind to travelers who take the roads.”

A burst of anger flared in Connor’s chest, and he glared at his dwarf friend. Before he could say a word, though, Elanee snapped, “I think you will find ‘tree-worshippers’ a rare thing these days, _dwarf,_ so do not use that word lightly!”

“Apparently not rare enough, to have you come out of nowhere after following us for hells knows why!” Neeshka countered.

“Would the two of you _please_ let _me_ do the talking?” Connor exploded, making Vhaera take a step back. “And _do_ remember she is not the only ‘tree-worshipper’ among us!”

Neeshka’s cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip as she ducked her head. Khelgar sighed, shoulders slumping. “Apologies, lad,” he muttered.

“Sorry, Connor,” Neeshka whispered.

Connor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, wincing when the action made his chest flare in pain. “I’m sorry for shouting,” he muttered. “If there were more of those creatures around . . . ” He shook his head, then turned back to Elanee. “It’s good to see a fellow druid on the roads,” he told her.

A small smile formed on her face. “And it is good to meet you as well,” she nodded. “Another druid is a rare thing on these roads, and I had begun to fear that all had vanished. It’s a strange circle of who follows who on this road. At first, I was following those who attacked you. But they seem to be following _you,_ which leads me to believe that there’s something you have, something _they_ want, so . . . ” She straightened to her full height, which was just past his shoulders. “I thought that perhaps my enemy’s enemies would at least welcome some company to their destination, and with my help, even get there faster.”

Connor’s curiosity was piqued. “Faster?” he echoed. “How?”

“Well, I come bearing a gift, not just words,” Elanee answered. “I know of a quicker path to Highcliff, and one that will hide your trail as well. There is a druid sanctuary not far from here: the Maiden’s Glade, where members of my Circle would go for refuge when traveling the land. I can lead you there, and with no further attacks from these hunters of yours. Not that you can’t handle yourself, but I am sure you’re growing as tired of these attacks as I am.”

 _“I am growing tired of you being hurt by these blade beings,”_ Vhaera gave her opinion.

Connor snorted softly. “Yeah, me, too,” he mumbled to her, missing the amusement in Elanee’s eyes. “You’re not wrong,” he added to her. “Have you learned anything about these attackers?” he gestured to the corpses.

“Little,” Elanee admitted. “They are not of the land, that is for certain. They’ve a strange smell about them, and their speech is like nothing I’ve heard before. Unless they are speaking to their thralls, it is impossible to make out. But they keep calling you ‘Kalach-Cha’ . . . do you know what that means?”

Connor shook his head in disappointment. “That was my next question to you.”

Elanee sighed. “Then it looks like when it comes to answers, we have little to offer one another. A pity.”

Connor’s decision had been made up when he saw the symbol of Silvanus around her neck, but he was rock solid in it now. “We would welcome your company.”

Elanee smiled as Neeshka started. “Very well,” she nodded. “I would be glad to accompany you.”

“What?” Neeshka sputtered. “We’re taking her along? Why?”

Elanee arched an eyebrow. “Is there some sort of problem?”

“I’ll say,” Neeshka scowled. “You’re still talking, and you’re acting like you’re coming _with_ us. _That’s_ the problem.”

“Neeshka,” Savannah said quietly. “Do you know how few druids there are nowadays? At the High Harvest Fair, the man in charge of our crops, Orlen, said there were no druids to be seen for acres. That’s not good, and _very_ worrying.”

“And if we’re hidden on the road from more of these things,” Connor carefully pressed against his ribs, cringing as he did, “that means there’s a better chance we’re not going to be hurt.”

Neeshka deflated. “Fine,” she muttered. “For _you,_ Connor . . . but I’m going to keep my eye on her.”

Khelgar grunted. “First the demon, now this willow-thin slip of an elf? Might as well invite all the realms, lad, and make a grand army, tromping through the wilderness. ‘Enemies, come and get us! Here we are!’”

It cheered Neeshka up, the girl giggling as Savannah smirked. Elanee just rolled her eyes. “We will _not_ be tromping through the wilderness. We will be weaving through it like the wind.”

“And speaking of the wind, shut your mouth, Khelgar, before your breath summons more of those creatures,” Neeshka added, making Savannah cackle. “Besides, look at it my way – wouldn’t you rather have our new friend right here where we can see her, rather than behind us the whole way?”

If Elanee was hurt by Neeshka’s words, she didn’t show it. “Fine,” she slid her sickle into the rope acting like a belt. “Let’s be off. Judging by the sun and trail, you _were_ headed to Neverwinter, correct?”

“Yes,” Connor nodded, looking through his pack and finding a healing potion. “We need to reach our Uncle Duncan in the city. He may have knowledge on a shard we possess.”

“A shard?” Elanee echoed, her eyes lowering to the bundle in his belt. “Ah, so _that_ would be the silk-wrapped bundle in your pack. It sounds like that is what those creatures are looking for.”

“Yes, but we don’t know why.”

“Hmm,” Elanee scratched the back of her head thoughtfully. “Well, if they seek it, then let us do what we can to keep it from them. Regardless, I appreciate your trust in telling me. Thank you.” Connor nodded as he uncorked the vial and downed the potion. “Let’s be on our way. Follow me. The Maiden’s Glade is not far.”

* * *

 _Druids were complicated things,_ Connor mused as he followed Elanee closely along paths he never would have seen unless he concentrated extremely hard. He was in touch with the land, absolutely, but without any druids native to West Harbor, he was slow in his learning. Elanee, on the other hand, appeared young at first, but as an elf, she could be decades older than him. Her animal companion Naloch, the badger who had saved him earlier, trotted ahead, sniffing along the path, occasionally examining Vhaera curiously. His boar didn’t seem to know what to make of the badger, so she tolerated the badger’s presence.

Savannah, while she didn’t appear pleased with where they walked, kept her mouth shut. His twin knew the value of having a druid who knew the land with them, and while Connor could guide them around West Harbor, Elanee walked with such confidence, she clearly knew where she was walking. Neeshka and Khelgar, on the other hand, had yet to complain.

At least until Neeshka griped when a tree branch almost smacked her in the head. “This is a _long_ way from the road,” she said. “Are you sure you know where you’re going?”

“Agreed,” Khelgar nodded. “How much farther is this place?”

Elanee smirked. “Not far, for we are already here.” She stopped at the edge of a clearing through the trees, and Connor smiled, seeing the grassy plains with gentle hills and arrangements of shrubs ahead. “This is Eridis,” she gestured. “The Maiden’s Glade, in the tongue of Harbormen.”

“That sounds elvish,” Savannah frowned. “Or . . . Illefarn?”

Elanee eyed her, nodding approvingly. “You are correct,” she said. “You surprise me. Just as the Mere of Dead Men was once Merdelain, the Slow-Marching Court, this place also had a name long before settlers from Neverwinter set foot here.”

“Did they _ever_ set foot here?” Neeshka scowled. “I can barely see where we’re going!”

“Trust me, it’s no better at my height, either,” Khelgar told her. “Sure as the hells couldn’t find my way back to the road now.”

Elanee smirked. “The road to the Maiden’s Glade is hidden, known only to the beasts of the land, and those whom the beasts call kin.” The subtle dig made Connor cough to hide a laugh; Savannah didn’t bother stifling a giggle. “Take note of where I step should you need to walk this path again. The glade up ahead was a retreat for druids, a place of shelter if they needed to heal or rest. Many such places exist along the coast. The animals here would protect the druids, and they will shield you from your pursuers, if they should find you.”

She faltered when Naloch abruptly growled, the fur on his back standing on end. Connor immediately reached for his scimitar as Neeshka gulped. “Uh . . . you mean _those_ animals?”

Elanee spun around just as three wolves raced out of the foliage, teeth bared in snarls. She stumbled backwards, working to draw her sickle as Connor stood in front of her protectively. “Vhaera!” he shouted.

The boar threw itself in the path of the approaching wolves, her tusks cutting through one’s belly. Savannah conjured a spear of her magic and threw it expertly, killing the second wolf. Khelgar buried his axe in the last one as Naloch clawed at its back. Elanee looked as though she had taken a hit in the head as she slowly walked over to the wolves, crouching down to examine them. “The animals here are frightened,” she gulped. “And I know not why. There is usually at least one druid in the glade, and they should be aware of the beasts, and us.”

Neeshka snorted. “Well, _I_ say we avoid any wolves or anything trying to kill us.”

“I say we fight them,” Khelgar offered his opinion. “They attack us, we attack them. ‘Sides, could use new boots.”

“Khelgar!” Savannah punched him in the arm.

Connor shook his head. “I don’t want to kill if we can avoid it. Not animals.”

“I would prefer that, yes,” Elanee agreed.

* * *

Unfortunately, neither Connor nor Elanee got their wish. Every path the elf took them down, wolves or boars or badgers charged them, teeth bared to attack. With every dead animal, the dread Connor felt grew. Khelgar and Neeshka seemed to pick up on it, and neither complained about killing the animals when the druids hesitated.

The first animals they saw that didn’t attack them were four very bloody, very torn-apart, very dead wolves in an open clearing. Connor’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, and he swayed on his feet, Savannah quickly grabbing his arm to keep him upright. Elanee sank to her knees by the wolves, eyes filling with tears. “These wolves,” she whispered hoarsely. “They were _slaughtered,_ and not for food, but out of bloodlust. Is this why the animals attacked us?” She buried her face in her hands, taking a deep breath. “Whatever is wrong must be here in the glade,” she mumbled. “I had thought the Circle of the Mere would be aware of any disturbance here, but now it seems the task must fall to us.”

Neeshka sighed, rubbing her forehead. “A druid thing?” she grumbled.

“I feel it, too,” Connor sighed. “Something’s wrong here, and we need to find out what.”

Elanee nodded, rising to her feet. “Thank you, Connor,” she whispered. “I would hate for whatever pursues us to be at our back.”

* * *

As if towering badgers weren’t enough, Connor rounded one of the cliff faces and found himself face to face with an enormous brown bear that looked like it was frothing at the mouth. Connor immediately had to duck into a crouch and roll away from the charging bear, his ribs protesting the movement. Khelgar’s axe cut into one of the bear’s legs, but the dwarf was patted away by a huge paw. Neeshka danced away, a panicked look on her face as she tried to find where to do the most damage. Savannah worked to summon her magic, red violet magic swirling around her fingers, but when the bear barreled towards her, she lost her concentration, trying to get away from the bear’s claws. Connor grabbed his sister and yanked her to the ground, the bear skidding in the dirt when his prey was no longer in sight. He growled and turned around, pawing at the ground before charging the siblings. Connor pushed Savannah behind him, his mind thinking through every spell that _might_ slow the bear down.

The same spell he had used in the crypts was chanted behind him, and the bear ran right into spikes, his paws punctured immediately. When the bear roared and tried to tear himself free, he lost his balance and tumbled into the spikes, his blood pouring out along the ground. His beady black eyes widened in pain, harsh pants coming from his mouth. Connor stared in horror at the bloody mess, even as Elanee approached, the other druid looking sick to her stomach. Elanee, a druid of the Mere, sworn to protect the glade . . . and she had killed the bear to save him and Savannah.

But all of them were shocked when the bear rolled his head, and when he saw Elanee, there was a spark of . . . recognition? “Elanee,” he rasped in man’s tongue, and Khelgar sputtered in surprise behind them. “You are . . . here . . . ”

Elanee dropped to her knees, eyes wide. _“Kaleil?”_ she gasped.

“I . . . ” the bear gasped. “I . . . came here . . . came here to try and find you, Elanee, to try and escape the Mere . . . to seek refuge here . . . ”

“The Mere?” Elanee asked frantically, Connor scrambling to reach the druid’s side . . . for it _was_ a druid, one trapped in animal form. “What is wrong?”

“The Mere,” Kaleil said hoarsely. “It speaks with a different voice now . . . and its waters, once clear to the Circle, are now dark . . . and run deep, _so_ deep.”

“What do you mean?” Elanee touched his head with trembling fingers. “Where are the others, the rest of the Circle?”

Kaleil took a deep breath that caught in his chest. “Vashne and the others . . . they are lost. Only you remain. I thought I could find you, or Naevan . . . but what claims the Mere overtook me, clouded my vision with shadows and blood, trapped me in this form.” He took a sharp breath, eyes clearing as he focused on Elanee. “Do _not_ return to the Mere, Elanee,” he ordered. “Do not, or you shall fall to its corruption as I did.”

Kaleil shuddered under Connor’s hands, then became still. He closed his eyes in defeat, slowly stepping away from the body of the shapechanged druid. Khelgar and Neeshka were thankfully silent as he made his way to Elanee, who was staring at Kaleil, looking as though she had taken a sword in the gut. “I . . . ” She stammered. “Kaleil, he’s . . . _dead_ . . . ”

“I’m sorry, Elanee,” Connor whispered, crouching next to her, placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder.

She took a shuddering breath, putting her face in her hands. “It was he that caused such unrest here,” she said miserably. “And why the animals attacked us.”

“What was he saying about the Mere?” Connor asked, looking back at Kaleil.

“I don’t know,” Elanee shook her head. “I . . . I have been away from the Circle for some time.” She put her hands down, swallowing and focusing on Connor. “Kaleil and I are part . . . _were_ part . . . of the Circle of Merdelain, the Mere of Dead Men. If the elders, if Vashne is lost . . . if _Naevan_ is lost . . . ” She shook her head mournfully. “I have been away too long. But this would explain why I could not feel the Circle any longer, and as for the land . . . ” She shook herself, and the emotion was wiped from her face. “But we should press on,” she stood. “I promised to lead you to Highcliff, and to safety, and so far, this path has proved longer than I wished.” She hesitated, then laid a hand on Kaleil’s head. “Farewell, Kaleil,” she whispered. “May you rest . . . and may the Glade become peaceful again.”

Connor put a hand on Kaleil’s shoulder. “I don’t know much about druidic traditions because I grew up in a Harbor village,” he said hesitantly. “But he deserves a funeral.”

Elanee’s mask broke again, and she nodded jerkily. Neither Neeskha nor Khelgar voiced any complaints as they joined Savannah in stepping forward to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet Elanee, a wood elf druid who waxes poetics about the land and animals while also, if you don't agree with her, can be a bit whiny and annoying. She's one of my favorite characters, though, so that's never been a problem.
> 
> Next up, the adventurers arrive in Highcliff. Can you believe They're still nowhere close to Neverwinter?


End file.
